


The other side of the moon

by Augurey



Series: Moonside Headcanon [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Background Het, Bisexual Remus Lupin, Bisexual Severus Snape, Book 3: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Bullying, Canon Universe, Drama, Drama & Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, In Character, M/M, Mental Health Issues, No Smut, Not sure if this is really polyamorus character, POV Remus Lupin, POV Severus Snape, Polyamorous Character, Romance, Severus loves Lily and Fanfic Loveinterest, Slow Burn, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:54:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 91,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26127592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Augurey/pseuds/Augurey
Summary: For both Remus and Severus, full moon nights are a torture. For the one, because he turns into the beast he never wanted to be. For the other, because insomnia reawakens the memories of Godric's Hollow. When Remus returns to Hogwarts at Dumbledore's behest and Severus, of all people, becomes his saviour in his hour of need, he seeks to talk about a past that has long caused him remorse. He has no idea that he will soon find out something about Severus that will bring them closer together than they ever dreamed. RL/SS. Also unrequited LE/SS in the background.
Relationships: Remus Lupin/Severus Snape
Series: Moonside Headcanon [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2082810
Comments: 57
Kudos: 92





	1. One day in August

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Die andere Seite des Monds](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26126764) by [Augurey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Augurey/pseuds/Augurey). 



> Hello, everybody, it's nice that you're going to snupin ;-) on my story! Remus x Severus is a pairing that has interested me for a long time and is at the top of my OTP list. Nevertheless, it took me years before I dared to do it myself. This is my first multichapter fiction to the two and I hope you will like it. Even though to dub the two of them requires a little artistic freedom, I try to write the pairing in character and as close to the canon as the idea allows.
> 
> For me this means that you will not get to read the following things !  
> \- forced coupling (e.g. by marriage laws, love potions, binding partners etc.)  
> \- Sexual assault and coercion  
> \- Denial of enmities  
> \- Instant Love (always had been secretly in love)  
> \- Bashing of Canon loveinterests and friends (exception: negative representation is Canon)  
> \- Denial of the heterosexual side of the characters  
> \- high-grade out of character, including optics
> 
> And here is also my  
> *ALWAYS- GUARANTEE*  
> Even when I set Severus up with someone else, he has always loved Lily and she will always be his anything. The new love is added, it does not replace the old one.
> 
> Since it takes some time to dissolve hurdles like an enmity, no one in this story will fall in love in chapter 2, 3 or 2.5. Expect it rather in the 20th, 30th or 25th. The slash is also relatively harmless, the rating is set because of other contents. 
> 
> And last but certainly not least: Credits to Cunegonde for editing my Deepl translation and so helping me to turn the story into proper English. Without you, the translation of the German original would be medicore at best. Thank you SO much! [3/56 chapters edited by now]
> 
> In this sense: Enjoy reading!
> 
> Content warning: bullying, trauma, suicide mention, injuries; mention of violent death (Own Character); Alcohol consumption

The twenty-third of August was one of those summer days that turned corrugated awnings into baking trays, roasted kitchen herbs in their pots, and made everyone feel as though they were stewing in an oven. Yet, at that moment, it was not the sultry heat that gathered in the alleyways of London that made Severus sweat. A pleasant coolness welcomed him as the green flames surrounding him died down and he entered Knockturn Alley. This was his preferred access point to central London, the public hearth on the corner of Kelpmoor Place. In the narrow, winding passageway between the densely packed houses, not a single ray of sunlight fell, even on a day like this. Knockturn Alley reminded Severus of the dark, barren seclusion of his dungeon rooms, and this homelike feeling was the only thing that kept him from firing a Cruciatus at the throat of the next passerby, or at least pushing them rather roughly to the side. His temple throbbed, and the book in his leather shoulder bag beat against his side in time, as if it were mocking him — more and more violently as he single-mindedly rushed up the path toward Diagon Alley. Here and there, eyes seemed to peer at him from the shadows of the alleyways, but the gazes of hags, crooks and other riffraff flew right past Severus. He saw only one face before him. A face with piercing blue eyes behind half-moon glasses and a long, silver beard; a beard within which a pair of lips moved, forming two words. And it was those two words that set fire to Severus’ veins; that screamed at him like an echo from every corner of a house; that made poison and bile bubble in his stomach until he was spitting up froth. Those two words were ‘Remus Lupin.’

Severus was blinded by sunlight as he left the shaded path behind and stepped out onto Diagon Alley. Once his eyes had adjusted to the brightness, he found himself amidst the usual afternoon bustle. Witches with shopping baskets strolled on the pavement, wizards with coin purses examined window displays, and a crup hurried off to who-knows-where, dragging along a figure in a voluminous cloak. As the crowd cleared for a moment, Severus' gaze fell on an advertising pillar across the way. From the pillar, above the heads of the crowd, _he_ stared down at him. With a crazed look and tangled hair, writhing in the chains that were meant to bind him, slavering for crime: Sirius Black, the murderer, as he had been already back in their school days. Severus gritted his teeth as he scrutinised the wanted poster. Then he let out a breath. ‘Go to Hell,’ he huffed; then he turned and continued on his way. With each vigorous step, he kicked the words ‘Remus Lupin’ further and further into the dust until they suffocated at his feet, choking pathetically.

What in the name of Merlin's beard had made Albus think of hiring him to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts?! Oh yes, Severus knew the reason very well: “In these dangerous times, the students of Hogwarts need a more capable teacher than they’ve had in recent years,” the headmaster's voice still hummed in his ears. The fact that Remus Lupin had been one of the escaped murderer’s closest friends had, naturally, not occurred to the man. Or rather: he had not wanted to think about it. Otherwise, he would not have disregarded the warning that Severus had voiced after a moment of shock. Nor would he have been so concerned about accommodating the _little_ ailment that plagued his oh-so-suitable job candidate on full moon nights. “That is why I wished to speak to you, Severus. Sit down. I’ve gone through your personnel file again, and I think there is a solution.” Yes, a solution. A solution for which Severus would be responsible! Severus, who would’ve liked to personally throw the filthy werewolf into Azkaban with his accomplice, where in his opinion they both belonged, and which for several weeks had contained neither. That Dumbledore had instead brought Lupin to Hogwarts hurt Severus like a spike driven through his heart. Not only because the headmaster himself was placing obstacles in the way of Potter's protection. It was the past that still stung like a fresh wound. Albus Dumbledore meant more to Severus than any person living; he was the only one who knew Severus’ secret. He was his ally, his mentor, his confidant. And now he seemed to have forgotten everything that had been done to Severus at school by Black, Lupin, and the rest of their four-leafed clover grown from poisoned seeds . The only grim satisfaction left to Severus was the knowledge that the four of them had stabbed one another in the backs and put an end to it all.

And with that thought, he entered the apothecary. Amidst barrels swelling with dragon livers, sacks full of dried beetle eyes and shelves laden with pickled snakes and worms, Severus found not the old grey eyes of the shopkeeper behind the counter, but two large brown eyes in a youthful face. Gullinera Jorkins, the shop assistant, had graduated from Hogwarts four years prior and, despite her mediocre Potions skills, had somehow managed to land herself an apprenticeship.

“Oh, Professor Snape , picking up something for your research again?” she greeted him affably, and Severus briefly frowned. She must have been as much of an amateur as her aunt, an old classmate, if her boss didn’t even trust her with the incoming mail. Severus had sent an owl three days ago.  
“No, I’m here on behalf of Hogwarts. The school needs some ingredients. I placed an order for Jobberknoll feathers, among other things,” Severus explained. Just then, a shadow appeared in the passageway to the storerooms, and Mr. Mullpepper joined them.  
“Jobberknoll feathers? Yes, a shipment came in just this morning. Come in.” Mr. Mullpepper stepped aside to make way for Severus and led him into an adjoining room where there sat, among other things, a full sack of bluish feathers. Scrupulously, Severus took a feather in hand and let it slide through his fingers. The fibres were pliable and quickly sprang back to their original form, which, like their fine texture, indicated that the animals had been well cared for. But something wasn’t right. Severus could feel it on his fingertips. The feathers were not quite as soft as they should have been. Angrily, he cast the feather from his hand and looked at Mr. Mullpepper with a spark of fury.  
“Six months! I need feathers from fledglings, no more than six months old. These are the feathers of adult females who have brooded before!”  
The pharmacist stared at him in bewilderment. His lips twitched briefly, but he remained silent. Gullinera Jorkins appeared in the doorway wearing a foolish expression, while her eyes wandered curiously over to Severus.  
“Tomorrow morning,” Severus said, before Mr. Mullpepper could find his voice again. “Not a day longer. You know I’m your best customer. But don't imagine that I won’t take my business elsewhere. Now, I need other ingredients as well. I hope you’ll have these in stock, at least.” He drew the book from his pocket and opened to the correct page — he never relied on transcripts or magical copies for a new potion, as they might contain errors — and read off everything he needed to the apothecary. A quarter of an hour later, Severus was back outside in the summer heat.

Wonderful. What a truly wonderful way to begin. If things continued on in this manner, it was bound to be a delightful year. With any other potion, the age of the Jobberknolls wouldn’t matter, only the quality of the feathers. But this brewing process was too precarious. Fortunately, Severus did not need the feathers that day.

He stomped sullenly onward to Potage's Cauldron Shop and took a look at their mixing spoons. It had been a long time since he’d used a triple-dragon-forged green and silver spoon with a core of moonstone . His old one had fallen victim to various vermin . Then, after he spent a little too much time looking sceptically at the display of self-stirring cauldrons, the shop assistant approached him and pointed out which ones were on sale. Self-stirring cauldrons, cheap products for the incompetent masses — they were ideal if you wanted to fatally spoil your potion. Literally. For a moment, Severus smiled wickedly to himself. Perhaps he should actually buy one? His dear headmaster would hardly be able to blame Severus for the untimely death of his new favourite employee. Severus could claim he was only fulfilling his duty; was it his fault if the potion was too complex for preset stirring patterns? Still indulging in his fantasies, Severus went to the register, having ultimately decided to purchase only the new mixing spoon. The thought of revenge tasted sweeter than any sticky lemon drop, but it was only a fantasy.

The glowing red sun was already sinking behind the tree line of the Forbidden Forest when Severus, having supped in a nearly empty Great Hall, descended into the dungeons and drew his wand to enter his office. In the past, he’d spent the summer holidays at his parents’ house in Cokeworth, but there was no laboratory or storeroom in the run-down hovel at Spinner's End. Feeling aggrieved, Severus paused in front of his shelves for a moment, inspecting his arsenal and noting which supplies he was missing. His anger had faded, had sloughed off him like a snakeskin the moment he crossed the threshold into his hallowed halls . All that remained was the pitiful smoulder of despair. Swallowing his emotions, Severus took the door that led to his private quarters. He passed the sleeping portrait of the golden-locked coxcomb that some predecessor had affixed to the hallway with a Permanent Sticking Charm and entered the room adjacent to his bedchamber. Spotless and brilliantly polished cauldrons lined the shelves. The fireplace, which was normally covered with soot during the school year, had been scrubbed clean by the house-elves. Everything seemed tidy, pristine, unused. And suddenly, Severus felt like a stranger in his own home.

He quickly unloaded the ingredients onto his workbench and set to work, carefully rubbing the Crackl cloth until their hulls became glass and they began to crackle. He prepared the aconite and loosely stretched a Night Moor Spider web over a round support, set a glass cylinder over it, and let blue smoke flow into it from a flask. Once again, a faint smile flitted across his lips. Another precarious stage of the recipe. Most potioneers were unaware of the effect that the vapour of the Blue Morel had on Night Moor gossamer. And those who did know usually stretched it far too taut. The webs had to vibrate in the blue smoke; this would release the magical energy that circulated between the threads of spider-silk. The degree of energy released would determine the level of human consciousness retained while in wolf form. An overstretched Night Moor web would put you in a twilight state, as if you were either Confunded or very tired, and an untreated web would not even have enough power to break through the transformation. Belby, of course, hadn’t said a word about the blue smoke. He didn’t write for the mass of amateurs in this field...

For a moment, Severus paused in his work and observed the web, which rose and fell gently in the blue smoke. Part of him almost regretted that, half a year before, he had sat the exam at the Potions Academy — passing where 90% of candidates failed. Had he not obtained a certificate allowing him to brew and sell the Wolfsbane Potion, perhaps Dumbledore would never have brought the louse-ridden werewolf to Hogwarts. A professor, whose attention would be in constant demand, would be harder for Madame Pomfrey to sneak out to the Whomping Willow than a student.

What would it be like to face him again? To look into that face that had so often appeared in his peripheral vision when Potter and Black were tormenting him? Severus carefully drizzled the juice of the Cracklypearls into the Wolfsbane infusion, which had begun to simmer. And like bubbles rising from the bottom of the cauldron, the memories surfaced again. Memories of seven harsh school years. Of spells that struck him in the back in the middle of the corridor and the resounding laughter of several boys. Of waiting in shadowy corners, and the feeling of triumph when the same boys came out of a classroom, off their guard, and Severus could get back at them. And suddenly, in all the commotion, red hair and a warm smile.

Lily!

Severus jerked inward, tearing his eyes away from the cauldron. His heart beat faster for a second, then everything was quiet again. It was only a moment, already passed. He stood in his laboratory and the memories were no more than pale images of a time long gone. He was not allowed to think about them. It would rob him of sleep, as it always did, and he needed a clear head tomorrow to fulfil his obligation. And yet Severus suddenly felt an infinite emptiness within himself. He was alone, and except for the boiling cauldron there was dead silence in the laboratory. The loneliness weighed heavily upon him, depressing like the smog in Cokeworth, near the factory. How many times had they brewed potions together? Innumerable! Severus sighed and continued his work, despite the stone pressing down on his chest. An hour later, perhaps two, he took the spider-silk from the device and carefully placed it over the potion, which had cooled down in the meantime. With the tooth of a Boomslang snake he pierced every junction of the web’s twelve spokes, watching as whirls formed at the points of entry and the web sprayed blue sparks and sank into the waves. When the surface had evened out, Severus put the cauldron aside. The pre-potion was ready and needed to brew until dawn.

Escaping the pent-up heat and oppressive loneliness of his quarters, Severus made his way back upstairs and out through the large portal into the open. The night air was mild and he breathed deeply to clear his mind. Fortunately, the Wolfsbane Potion had to be prepared on the night of the new moon. A fortnight ago, when the moon shone full in the sky, he couldn’t sleep a wink. Ghostly images had swirled through his mind. The house in Godric's Hollow, the full moon, the jack-o-lanterns, the fearful sweat and racing heart as he stormed up past Potter's body. And the sight that had seared so deeply into his memory that it burned his mind. The red hair that fanned across the ground and caused everything, everything within him to collapse.

Once more, Severus took a deep breath. Then he turned back, swapped his robe for his nightclothes, and threw himself onto the pillow under which a red curl lay in a paper envelope.

Far above him, above the battlements of the Astronomy Tower, a moonless sky stretched as far as Ethiopia..


	2. An unexpected letter

A soft pattering covered the tent and the summer wind carried the scent of damp, warm earth to the entrance. The plateau lay under a light rain. All at once, Remus felt something moist upon his cheek. He immediately put his old book aside and looked up: a small tear had formed in the tarpaulin. Remus sighed softly and drew his wand. “Reparo!" he murmured and watched the hole close. It wouldn't last long. The tent, an heirloom, had outlived its time like everything else he owned. Silently, Remus put the wand aside and looked out into the night. The Shrivelfig trees formed a black silhouette against the gloomy horizon, which was only dimly lit by the lights of the distant village. Somewhere in the darkness the sheep bleated in their pasture as the rain soaked their wool. In the camp itself, everything was quiet.

A clammy feeling tightened Remus' chest while moths buzzed around the paraffin lamp beside him. He welcomed his nocturnal solitude, and yet it made him melancholy. So far from home, he felt even more alone than in that remote house of his parents. And yet, summer was a good time. The proof was in the boxes stacked around the surrounding fence, invisible in the darkness: there was work for him. Lawful work. Sure, it only brought in a pittance. But he’d decided to save every single Knut so he wouldn’t have to get involved in crooked business again. Who knew whether the silver lining that loomed on the horizon would actually become reality? Last winter had been tough. Everywhere he went, Remus had encountered locked doors, as he so often had before, and no one would pay him for even the work of a house-elf. But when it came to field hands, no one cared about an entry in the Werewolf Registry or all the nameless dark secrets a person might carry. The fact that the planter’s sister-in-law only came to check on them at night and fed their sheep Blood-Replenishing Potion spoke volumes.

Moreover, this area was sparsely populated. There were only a few isolated villages amidst untouched expanses. Expanses that made it possible to roam the plateau on a full moon night without meeting a single soul. A stab went through Remus' heart and side as he looked back at the table, where a moth was crawling over an envelope sent from Italy. Not every place was so wide and deserted as Ethiopia...

Despondent, Remus tried to subsume his thoughts in his reading, when suddenly something caught his attention. In a flash, he grasped his wand again and focused his gaze. But before he could see anything in the darkness, he heard it. The call of an owl resounded through the night. Exhaling deeply, Remus lowered his wand and stepped to the opening of his tent to greet the postman. In the past few days, there had been several incidents with a herd of Tebo that had trampled down entire rows of fig trees. He was relieved when a tawny owl hurtled past his face and landed, exhausted, on his bed. Relieved and excited at the same time.

“From Hogwarts?” Remus asked softly, unable to suppress the tremor of excitement in his voice. How he had anticipated this letter, yet feared its contents!

The owl looked up at him with tired eyes, indicated a nod with its beak, and lifted its leg, to which the envelope was tied. But Remus shook his head gently when he saw how much this movement strained it.

“There’s plenty of time for that. You’ve had a long journey. Get your strength back first,” he said to the animal, preparing a bowl of grain and a bowl of water which he placed before it. He had waited days for a message from Scotland; what difference could a few more minutes make? Once the owl had picked himself up again and Remus finally broke the seal with the school crest, his breath faltered for a moment. Not with fear, but with joy. An unreal joy, almost dreamlike. The letter contained only a few lines, written in the curving script of Albus Dumbledore. But the words were so much bigger than any parchment could hold. “…Severus has agreed to brew the Wolfsbane Potion…” Remus’ eyes barely glanced over the last few lines as he slowly sank into his chair.

Then it was true! What he had hardly dared to hope for was true. He would be returning to Hogwarts. He would return to his old school and work there as a teacher. He would have a steady income; he would once again see Madam Pomfrey and the Great Hall, Hogsmeade, the lake, and Harry. Yes, he would see Harry, the son of one of his best friends, whom he had last held in his arms as a baby. Remus held his breath imperceptibly. His mind raced, as it had on the evening when, to his complete surprise, he’d received the first letter, his second night at the camp. Since then, several owls had crossed the Mediterranean. Not that he was unwilling to answer Dumbledore's call **.** For Dumbledore, Remus would have done far more for far less than a job offer that would also benefit himself. He owed so much to the man who had enabled him to attend Hogwarts. But he was tormented by worry about his ‘furry little problem.’ Wouldn't he be a terrible danger to students? It had been risky even back then; how could it be less so now? What if someone were to get hurt?

Once again Remus’ eyes skimmed over the letter, clinging to the line that slowly seared itself into his memory. Images rose before his mind's eye and began to circle him like a swarm of moths around a light. Or were they bats under the light of the full moon? Remus saw it all again, the scene in the morning after a particular full moon: the angry, pale face at the Slytherin table; Dumbledore’s unchanging calm expression, high above with the teachers; McGonagall’s stern gaze roving over them; the defiant grin on Sirius’ lips; Peter’s head inquisitively bent forward and James’ solemn voice whispering what had happened. Remus could still feel the blood slowly drain from his face and his cheeks grow cold, seized by a shudder — the first of many to follow — at what might have happened; he had stared at Sirius and couldn’t grasp his smile. Something in the pit of his stomach cramped up, sank within him like a stone and pulled his gaze downward.

 _Severus has agreed to brew the Wolfsbane Potion_. Severus. Severus Snape. The name blurred with his memories. The name drowned in a sea of images, not only of that night, until at last Remus sighed. The perpetrators alone were not to blame; it also fell upon those who had remained silent. Remus had remained silent. And now it was Severus Snape, of all people, who would banish the beast within him; who was in a way his salvation, he who had once so nearly endangered the other man’s life, albeit unintentionally. What would it be like to face him again? It had been another surprise when Dumbledore had mentioned almost offhandedly in one of his letters that Severus also worked as Potions Master at Hogwarts. Remus had never expected this career path for his former classmate. Sure, nobody could hold a candle to him in Potions, except of course for Lily. Thus it was no surprise to Remus that Severus had mastered the Wolfsbane Potion, of which he had only heard rumours amongst his peers. But teaching? That was not at all in keeping with the shady Slytherin Remus remembered. He would have been far less surprised to find Severus Snape running a shop in Knockturn Alley, selling Dark artefacts and dangerous concoctions to a disreputable clientele. But who knew how people changed? What changed them?

Change. The word stabbed him in the heart again, and this time the pain burned like a gaping wound. So much had changed in just one month. Remus had still been in his pension in that Italian village when he had opened the Daily Prophet and felt himself stricken. From the front page, Sirius’ photo stared at him with a wild look. Without warning, like a bolt from the blue. Sirius — Remus could never think of him as Black — had broken out of Azkaban, according to the headline. But Remus was unable to grasp the words, to absorb them, to understand. They seeped into his consciousness slowly, like a trickle of water, and like alcohol they set everything aflame. Sirius. The pain was overwhelming, as it had been then. For this flaming wound had, in fact, never been extinguished; Remus had only contained it within a wall of deliberate forgetfulness, while so many of his questions remained unanswered. And if he wasn't careful, at night, before he fell asleep, a few sparks would fly over to the other side of his consciousness. Sirius, of all people! Sirius, who betrayed James. How? Why? They had been like brothers. Never had there been such a friendship as theirs. And Peter too? It was inconceivable that one had killed the other!

Some things remained a mystery, even after more than a decade. Twelve years had passed. Twelve years in which a naive, gnawing feeling within Remus constantly told him that something was wrong. That such a friendship couldn’t have ended in treachery. This feeling was impervious to hard facts and in its stubbornness, it defied the truth that Remus needed to believe. Especially now that Dumbledore had asked him to help protect the students of Hogwarts, and Harry in particular, from Sirius.

Sirius… Severus… Sirius… Severus

The names danced through Remus’ mind until at last he folded the letter and put it aside. Enough! The past was in the past. What counted now was the future. He would return to Hogwarts in a week. And by Merlin, he had so much to prepare! So much that he had put off, because something within him had doubted that Dumbledore would really find a solution. How stupid! He had been so blinded by his fear of the task ahead that he had forgotten that nothing was impossible for an Albus Dumbledore. Remus was still a little queasy at the thought of spending full moon nights under the school roof, which would have been a paradise for Greyback. But now the matter was settled, and the Wolfsbane Potion awaited him.

Already planning, Remus went to his suitcase, withdrew a worn leather portfolio, opened it and took out a fresh sheet of paper and an envelope. Inkwell and quill were still on the table, for he was in the habit of sometimes writing down his thoughts on good reading in a notebook. He jotted down a response and turned to the tawny owl, who was just picking the last grain out of the bowl. “Are you ready for your return flight?” he asked cautiously.

The owl stood up straight as a candle and ruffled its feathers so that it looked as if it stood before him with a swollen breast. Remus smiled softly. “Fine,” he breathed and began to tie the letter to its leg, “Then take this back to Dumbledore.”

The tawny owl nodded, spread its wings and flew off into the night with a rustle of feathers. A touch of melancholy seized Remus as he listened to the animal’s call fading away. There, where the owl was going, was the last enemy from his school days, as well as the last people who were something like friends to him. There was a dry place, a steady income and a potion that could tame the destructive power within him. How Remus would have loved to fly home with his letter right then and there. But his employment in Ethiopia was not yet over. Tired, he turned back to his tent to extinguish the light and go to bed. 

On the table, the letter from Italy still sat. Its envelope remained sealed, as it had for days.


	3. A journey into the past

The face in the mirror looked sick and grey. Lustreless light brown hair, already streaked with silver, clung to his forehead. Remus took a deep breath, dipped his hands into the washbasin and poured ice-cold water over his head. Two days in England had already been enough to banish the light tan his skin had acquired under the African sun — if he had ever had one. A cough shook him as he dried his face with a threadbare towel, and he felt as if he hadn't slept for a thousand years. The Tebo herd had demanded their full commitment for the last few days. Moreover, it had rained continuously — in Ethiopia and here in East Ham, which was sinking that morning under torrents of rain. Remus felt drained. Nevertheless, he turned to the narrow table in the corner and tied his small suitcase with a wave of his wand. Suppressing a yawn, he slipped into his patched cloak and put two large chocolate bars in his pocket, while a train passing close to the window rattled the room. Dust floated down from the ceiling and coated the boxes and suitcases, the folders, the aquarium and the gramophone that lined the opposite wall. The hastily prepared syllabi; the loans from the Magic Zoological Museum; the records Remus had found in the general store in Diagon Alley; even the safety supply of chocolate — all sank under a powdery layer. Groaning softly, Remus raised his wand again, cast _Locomotor_ on the luggage, and directed everything down the narrow staircase, which creaked menacingly under his feet.

At the large railway platform , which he reached after a short walk across the rain-soaked concrete yard, the scarlet locomotive stood waiting to be woken from its slumber. For a breathtaking moment Remus watched it, spellbound, as his luggage hit the ground. So many memories; a good portion of his youth was wrapped up in this red Colossus. No cloud rose from the smokestack yet, and there was no sign of the engine driver , above whose flat Remus had lodged for the last two days. But from the other end of the hall, a noise came toward him that sounded like the rolling of a suitcase on cobblestones. A moment later, a fully loaded trolley emerged from the twilight of the hall, and behind it appeared the sleepy face of a witch. Only at second glance did Remus realise that she was carrying a cigarette in a long holder, which she puffed listlessly while the trolley rolled along the tracks by itself.

“Are you Professor Lupin?” she rasped grumpily when she reached Remus.

Remus cleared his throat to hide the fact that he felt as if he had been hit in the head. He hadn’t expected to be greeted like this. “Yes, I am. Dumbledore has instructed me to — ”

Without using her wand, she hoisted the trolley into the interior of the train. Frowning, Remus watched her.

“Who’s Dumbledore gotten in trouble with?”

But it was not the trolley witch who answered him. A deep, smoky voice arose from close beside him.

“With the Minister of Magic. Didn’t want the dementors guarding Hogwarts or accompanying the train, at first. He won out with us, but Fudge threatened him that if he heard of any more rules being bent at the school, he would regret it. Apparently last year there was some trouble about a certain Hagright or something. In the end, Dumbledore agreed to have the dementors posted around the school. Well, we only heard about the matter on the sidelines. It's none of our business, as long as it doesn’t affect the train.”

It was Mr. Button , the engine driver, whom Remus had last spoken to two evenings before when he’d handed over the keys to the small garret. His peaked cap shook above his weathered face and before Remus could say anything back, he had already pulled out his wand and commanded his luggage up from the ground once more.

“Well, let’s get on with it. These are for Hogwarts, aren’t they?”

“Err, yes, Mr. Button,” Remus replied politely, “materials for the classroom.”

The man smiled heartily while a trap door popped open under the first carriage and the boxes, suitcases and files were carefully stored one by one in the secret luggage compartment.

“Please, call me Jim. And now may I ask you to board, Mr. Lupin? We must be at King’s Cross in an hour at the latest.”

Already climbing the steps to the cab, he motioned Remus to hurry. And Remus didn’t need to be asked twice. He had just reached the last step of the first carriage door when the shield cap appeared out the narrow window of the locomotive once more.

“If anything happens, you know where to find me,” Jim shouted down the platform. Remus nodded, even though he wasn’t sure if the engine driver had seen him in the semi-darkness, and closed the door.

Window after window of compartment doors flew past him, alternating shadow and penumbra as he headed toward the last carriage with his small suitcase in hand. He still knew from his own school days that students rarely sat there, and he did not necessarily want to mingle with the crowd. His thoughts began to circle again as he left one carriage after another behind him. Dementors — they were the reason Dumbledore had wanted him to arrive by the school train. Remus had already known half of what the engine driver had told him. The headmaster’s lines were fresh in his mind: _We cannot rule out that they may also be observing the Hogwarts Express. Please look after the students’ safety_. He could well understand Dumbledore’s resistance to the Ministry of Magic’s decision. Dementors were sinister beings who made no distinction between friend and foe. And they had been the first beings that Voldemort had brought under his control. The guards of Azkaban, who now kept Death Eaters at bay in their cells, had once been their allies. They had caused trouble often enough for the Order of the Phoenix! How many Patronuses had been cast during those years? With a shiver, Remus remembered how one of them had even attempted to give him the kiss. No one in his right mind would want to allow such beings near hundreds of untrained young wizards and witches. But Dumbledore had not even hinted in his letter that he had nearly fallen out with Fudge over this. And what did Mr. Button mean when he alluded to Hagrid? Obviously, things had been happening at Hogwarts in recent years that had escaped his notice. _If he heard of any more rules being bent at the school_ … Remus could almost hear the engine driver’s words in his ears. And again, his guilty conscience stirred. Dumbledore had already bent the rules. For him.

Absently, Remus stowed his baggy suitcase on the shelf and sat down. Gradually the languor returned to his limbs and he felt his eyelids grow heavy. Indeed, he hadn’t slept a wink for the last two days, his preparations having taken up so much of his time. Dozing off, he didn’t notice when the train started to move. Only when he saw raindrops running down the windowpane did he realise that the Hogwarts Express was on its way. Sleep-drugged, he was about to sink into his seat when suddenly something scratched his chest. The letter! Remus hadn’t packed it in his suitcase, but had instead stowed it in his breast pocket. He pulled it out again with trembling fingers and examined the sender’s fine handwriting in the grey morning light, as the rain slowly subsided. Although the paper weighed only a few grams, the envelope lay heavy in his hand. And as he had done for nearly two weeks, Remus wrestled with himself over whether or not he should open it. Silence filled the compartments, interrupted by the rattling of the carriage wheels as the train took a switch and the rain suddenly stopped. He breathed out deeply and once again skimmed over the name that made his heart beat faster. Ilaria Canobi...

The last time he had seen her, she was in a sickbed surrounded by a flock of healers. Fortunately, everything had turned out well, just a few bruises and memory loss spanning the last few hours. But it could have been worse, much worse. They had known each other for two weeks, he and the woman from the village, who also worked as a field hand. On the very first day, as they sat together in the dining room after work and enjoyed their evening, he’d sensed that there was something special between them. It had been a long time since he had gotten along so well with somebody, and it didn’t take two nights before she visited Remus in his dreams. Ilaria herself seemed to be in a similar situation, because from then on she sought him out in every free moment. Soon they no longer spent their evenings in the tavern, but on long walks through the hills. And finally, at the end of their second week, there was that single, furtive kiss as the August sun sank behind the mountains. If only Remus hadn’t forgotten his cloak in the tavern that fateful evening! The weather had changed, and it had been cool and hazy when he had apologised and left the table with the excuse that he had to send an owl before the little post office closed. The evening sun was already setting as he made his way deeper and deeper into the wilderness behind the Elf-made vineyard, putting as much distance as possible between himself and any civilisation. He didn’t know why Ilaria had followed him to that inhospitable place, of all places, just to bring him his coat; nor did he know what had actually happened that night. When he regained consciousness the next morning, he had been lying on the hard floor of a rock cave, and the pain in his left side had lasted longer than usual for his retransformations. He had been injured, and when he looked around in the grey morning light, he realised to his horror that he was not alone. On the other side of the cave Ilaria’s lifeless figure, half sitting, half sprawled, was bent strangely over a rock; under it, his coat. Despite his agonising pain, shock had immediately propelled him to her side. To his relief, he had heard her soft breathing as he bent over her. He found no dark spots of encrusted blood on her clothes, and her skin was unscathed except for a few superficial scratches that couldn’t have come from a wolf bite. Only her wand was lying broken in the dust. She must have somehow managed to incapacitate him after a hard fight. As Remus later learned — and he still didn’t know how he’d made it back to the village with his pain — she had also erased part of her own memory. And that had been the sign for him to leave. For all the misfortune he had almost brought upon her, was it not better for Ilaria not to know what had happened that night? Even before she had regained consciousness, he had left the sickroom. He had not been able to look her in the eyes. Those eyes whose light of life he had so nearly extinguished. A memory of a cold morning between winter and spring had returned to him with all its cruelty, and made Remus stagger as he mounted the stairs to his room at the inn. Within an hour, he had packed his few belongings and given notice to the winegrower. His heart broke at the thought of never seeing Ilaria again. But they could not be together. He was no good for her, for anyone. He had come back to his senses, even if he had tried to forget. All he left for her was a concise letter filled with lies. He had not been able to tell her who he was, what he was. The thought of speaking the truth to her hurt more than writing down the obvious excuses.

And now her letter was in his hands. A letter that was most likely full of questions. And Remus knew that he could not open it. The wound was too fresh, and he had to forget Ilaria, for her own good. Why did it have to end in such tragedy every time he fell in love? Either they toyed with his feelings, like David the autumn before last, whom Remus had caught _in flagrante delicto_ with a third werewolf shortly after they’d met, or the beast within him thwarted everything. He was not a man to stay for just one night, but neither was he a man for thousands of them, if a relationship meant putting those he loved in terrible danger. Would he ever meet someone who wouldn’t stir up his deepest fears? In truth, all Remus longed for was the kind of soppy , old-fashioned, great and immortal love that the poets described in their writings. But no matter how many men and women he’d met who had touched his heart, none had remained at his side. Either they fled from him, or he fled himself for their protection.

Tired, he stowed Ilaria’s letter in his coat pocket so that it would not disturb him, and sank back into his seat. Although the windowpane had dried in the meantime, the world blurred before his languid eyes into a sea of grey tones. Yet far away, a small silver lining appeared on the horizon and suddenly, while he was half asleep, a happy thought crept into his head. Today he would finally see again a person he could love, even if in a completely different way than Ilaria or David. For twelve years he hadn’t dared go to Little Whinging for fear that the Ministry, which closely monitored the werewolves, might be unhappy to find him roaming around a Muggle residential area. Really, this also should have made him feel guilty. But at the moment his curiosity prevailed. How had James’ son gotten on? After Sirius’ betrayal, Remus was something of a godfather to the boy. And he could hardly wait to see him again after all these years. With thoughts of Harry Potter, Remus finally closed his eyes and slipped away into the land of dreams. He did not suspect the rude awakening that was to come.


	4. Joy of reunion

The sleeper did not stir. Not the slightest movement went through the outstretched figure. The chest alone rose and fell leisurely under his snoring. Grimly Severus looked down on him, the hated colleague, as he lumbered there in his chair, his head bedded on the paperwork of the desk, which did not even belong to him. The entire interior of the stocky office - the desk in front of the window, the cupboards and the hanging board, the sofa in the corner - they all belonged to the school. Disgusted, Severus turned away and carefully placed the steaming cup on the corner of the desk so that it did not make a sound. He had no intention of waking his patient prematurely and spoiling the most beautiful part of his performance. Even though he had only been planning it for half a minute. There was already a strange skill at work that made him find his enemy like this. Severus had not expected that someone who roamed whole full moon nights would be tempted to take a foul nap in his work before the witching hour, nor would he have broken into the home of a guy whose presence at Hogwarts was annoying enough for him. But there was a danger to be averted and chance had played into his hands. For a moment, just for a moment, he wanted to feast his eyes on his enemy, who was dozing there completely guilelessly; the face on which there was not the slightest hint of foreboding; on the power he had over him in those minutes, as innocent, as ignorant, as completely at his mercy as Lupin lay before him. In a hint of triumph, Severus curled his lips into a bitterly angry smile. The thought of what he could do to his old classmate in this situation was a long awaited satisfaction. For hours he had silently endured the night before how Albus had welcomed his new colleague for his favorite position and all of Hogwarts had applauded; how the principal Lupin had expressed his gratitude with a serious face for being in the right place at exactly the right time to protect Potter, where Severus had once taken on a three-headed giant dog for the same purpose and received as reward only the refusal of the school trophy for his house; how warmly Madam Pomfrey and Minvera McGonagall had greeted the newcomer at the later drink, and the chatter and murmurings that had been exchanged until one wanted to vomit.

When Severus could no longer stand it, he had apologized to Albus for an upset stomach, had fled to his dungeon and had let out his displeasure over the seething cauldron. Yesterday and today, when he had avoided his latest annoyance as best he could. If the lice-ridden werewolf and the dear Headmaster were already robbing him of valuable time for his studies for the Merlin Academy, then he at least wanted to determine the conditions himself. And these were revenge. Revenge as far as it could escape the eyes of the principal. Revenge for seven long years of school, during which a certain quartet of students had made him suffer and the same eyes had also looked away. Oh yes, he had added a little something to the magic potion. Just a few drops...

The hands of the small clock on the hanging board, also on loan from Hogwarts, moved to half past twelve a.m. and a light citrus scent emanated from the cup, only perceptible to Severus' fine nose. Lemon juice had no influence at all on the effect of the potion, but the opposite was the case. The Wolfsbane Potion intensified the sour taste of the lemons and in combination with the wormwood, a disgusting, nauseating brew was created from the otherwise only slightly bitter tasting drink. Silence filled the room as Severus bent over his old enemy in sweet anticipation and let a handful of dust, which he had picked up in the brevity of one of the countless chests, trickle over his face. With a mighty sneeze Lupin came to. But by then Severus had already extinguished the pitiful light of his magic wand, retreated into the shadows of the niche between two towers of boxes and listened with poisonous pleasure to his counterpart rustling a handkerchief from the breast pocket of his faded, striped shirt. Just as the wolf blew his nose, he began to speak.

"Good evening, Professor Lupin," he flattered with the worst courtesy he could muster and did not forget to put a soft threat in his voice, "it seems to me that you are not in the best of health. Falling asleep in the middle of work, coughing and sniffling... Probably an outing too much of the night, I suppose? How fortunate that Hogwarts harbors skilled healers beneath its battlements".

In the incoming moonlight, to which Severus' eyes gradually became accustomed, he could see Lupin looking around the room searching. He did not hesitate. He already had the wand at hand and stretched it out towards the kerosene lantern on the side table of the couch.

"LUMOS!"

The lamp was lit and their eyes met in the shining light.  
"Severus," Lupin gasped, and his words choked in a cough.  
"Yes, that's me," Severus replied coolly, while walking slowly into the room by the boxes, "So we meet again. I in the venerable robe of the potion master and you in the convict costume like your old friend Black."  
For a moment there was silence in the room, while Severus stood up in front of the sofa and looked down on his colleague with a sneering smile. After all, it was this one who broke the silence.  
"I must admit, your visit surprises me. I didn't expect to find you in my locked office in the middle of the night," Lupin calmly explained. But Severus did not escape the slight trembling in his voice.  
"Oh," he replied sharply, glaring at his counterpart, "Has the principal forgotten to tell you? The Wolfsbane Potion has to be taken regularly a few days before full moon in order to fulfill its purpose. Five at the minimum, but better six or seven. We don't want you to become a danger to innocent students, or should I say innocent Slytherins?"

With the last words Severus had come close to the desk and had fixed Lupin's eyes with a piercing look. Light as a poison that only takes effect in the aftermath, the breath of his lowered voice faded in the small space between them. For a moment he thought he saw his colleague's face fading under the warm light of the kerosene lamp. But the very next moment, after a brief eye movement into the semi-darkness of the room, Remus regained his color. Frowning, Severus followed his gaze and, on the side table of the couch in front of which he had just stood, in a jumble of freshly unpacked utensils, he spotted the outline of a blue paper bag. One of the kind he knew well, because Mr. Mullpepper sold bezoars in such bags. At this sight, an inexplicable anger suddenly burst forth in Severus and he gritted his teeth. But he did not have time to think about what actually made him so angry about this possession of his old enemy. A voice drew his attention back to the desk after a while.

"I thank you, Severus, for coming up to me at such a late hour to bring me the Wolfsbane Potion," Lupin remarked calmly and held his gaze, this time without any sign of fear. Then, to Severus' great surprise, he got up, passed him and entered the room, and with a wave of his wand he lit up the big ceiling light.  
"Night work demands a lot of you," he literally gushed out of him after taking a deep breath, "Staying awake for a long time quickly affects your health, and the next morning you feel as if you're exhausted. I know this only too well. In Oxford, where two years ago in november I worked as an inventory assistant in the warehouses of Quality for Quidditch and Siegfried's dragon leather goods, we only had night shifts. The cold, humid climate in the draughty warehouses really takes it out of you. I think it is no different in the dungeons of Hogwarts. Can I offer you something. A glass of water or tea perhaps?"  
While Lupin spoke, he had been tampering with a hanging board without ceasing, and now, with two cups in his hand, he stepped to the side table of the sofa, where a shabby tin pot rested on a cold warmer. Perplexed, Severus stared at him.  
"What?! No!," it came involuntarily over his lips without him being able to prevent it. None of this went as he had planned. It went completely out of his control.  
"Then maybe a coffee," his colleague asked as if nothing had happened, called a quick Accio and began to pile up brown powder in one of the two cups. Desperate, Severus resorted to the only means left to him: his wand.  
A swerve and the ugly sound of shattering porcelain filled the room. Lupin, who was about to put a second spoon of coffee into the cup, suddenly held nothing but shards in his hand. With a gloomy look he turned to Severus. And Severus felt the triumph of returning power.  
"Yesterday you already had your pleasure in making yourself dear to everyone," he whispered to his counterpart, "Don't think it escaped my notice how you sucked up to everyone. A kiss here, a hug there, and the college lay at your feet. Oh yes, the whole world seems to love you, the new, nice and completely harmless colleague, doesn't it? But don't be so sure of their favor. Sympathies change easily like a flag in the wind. But you can't fool me. I've always known you and I will not rest until the rest of the world knows as well what sort of man you are. Who knows if Black did not have the support of an old friend when he escaped!"

Suddenly Lupin's face changed. It was like an icy breeze sweeping across the face, wiping away every wrinkle of a smile. Anger seemed to seethe beneath the pale skin. With a sinister look he stepped forward and fixed Severus' nose.  
"You have entered my workroom, although my door was locked. This is trespassing, Snape," he whispered sternly, "I could inform the principal and I will, if you don't turn around on the landing right away.  
Severus smiled coldly.  
"Don't worry, I didn't intend to stay long in your what do you call it, workroom. I'm just fulfilling my care here," he explained patronizingly and nipped his nose in the direction of the desk, "By the way, you should drink your potion before it cools down, werewolf!

Without waiting for an answer from his enemy, who in the meantime stood before him petrified, Severus turned on his heel and rushed out of the door, which fell thunderously into the lock behind him.

In the dark, silent corridor on the other side, however, he stopped once more and cast a contemptuous glance back. Lupin had managed to throw him off his game for a short time, but in the end he had won the battle. He had made it unmistakably clear to his new colleague what he thought of him and his presence at Hogwarts. From today on, war was on and Severus knew who would win it. With a bitterly angry smile he left the battlefield and nothing followed him but the soft clatter of dishes in the nightly silence.


	5. Seeds of doubt

For a moment Remus looked at the door. Then his rigidity dissolved into a short shiver. He should protect his office with treshold bans, as rumours in the teachers' room said some of his colleagues did. How could he have forgotten this precaution, which he had conscientiously applied to each of his small, dangerous and always poorly paid jobs, within the walls of Hogwarts? Scared out of his slumber in the middle of the night to find an uninvited guest in the corner of the room was not the nicest way to be awakened, whether the visitor was a troll or a grumpy colleague. But as quickly as his neck hair had straightened up, it lay down again. Thought-loaded, Remus stepped to his desk and let his eyes wander over his workplace. The small office suddenly seemed much cooler to him, although steam was rising from the hot cup directly in front of him. A small piece of paper stuck to the coaster. _Do not sweeten! Destroys the effect_ ', Remus deciphered the agitated writing. Carefully he lifted the cup and led it to his mouth. A horribly sour scent rose up his nose and for a moment he had to think again of the bezoar he had bought from his small savings for his time as a harvest worker and had renounced a new pair of shoes in return. Nevertheless, he opened his lips and took a strong sip. He could have spit at the same moment. His facial muscles contracted and only with choking he could get the drink down. The stuff not only smelled disgusting, it tasted disgusting too. But the temperature had cooled down so much that he didn't burn his tongue and he didn't feel any signs of poisoning, which he hadn't really expected anyway. Remus sucked the air in deeply, held his breath and threw the rest down in one go. Then he put the dishes aside with a clatter, sank to the floor and stared at holes in the floorboards at his feet for a while before he got up again and went over to the bedroom.

Severus' word still hung like a dark thundercloud in the room as he climbed into bed. And the oppressive climate weighed heavily on him. It was certainly no coincidence that his colleague had visited him at night to scare him. Remus had seen the sheer hate in the black eyes that had been staring at him at the opening party last night, yet had prayed that this look might mean something else. Now hope lay shattered on the ground. Severus had by no means forgotten their story, that was clear. The accusation in his eyes was for the enemy of old times, not for the new face in the college. A shiver gripped Remus as he once again looked furtively at the door. Beside the shattered hope rested the gauntlet that Severus had thrown down to him. He wanted to revive these old times, perhaps demanding a revenge. Yet this had never been Remus' feud, never his war. He had not wanted to be Severus' enemy, even if the aversion had certainly been mutual. But if it had gone his way, they would have simply stayed out of each other's way instead of getting involved in constant conflict. And now he was to be pilloried for this past?

Silently Remus turned off the lights and slipped under the blanket. In every corner of the room the images of old years rose like rain haze and raised their voices to accuse. Who did he actually expect to find? Remus did not know. But certainly not the same gloomy, fat-haired Slytherin as ever, only aged by years. For Severus, time had stood still. And for him? Thoughtfully, Remus closed his eyes. Something rumbled in the pit of his stomach as if from a bad food. But he knew that this rumbling had nothing to do with his dinner and nothing to do with the potion that was slowly taking effect. It was the bad conscience. How could the past be closed off for him when his counterpart handed it straight to him on a silver platter in his room? The coolness in the room penetrated Remus and he hoped that the blanket would quickly do its job. Warmth, wasn't that what he lacked most? Not a single one of his closest school friends had remained, only one enemy. And what that might mean made him shiver even more.

The next morning came and Remus' gloomy thoughts vanished in the early light like the shadows in the corner. The corridors of the school were filled with the bustling life of young people that Friday, and as Remus made his way to breakfast, he enjoyed being in the midst of all this hustle and bustle. Being back at Hogwarts, putting his feet on the stairs that changed direction at any moment and passing portraits in the galleries, engrossed in eager conversation, felt like coming home. Wrapped up in the haze of rising memories, this time beautiful and bright, it almost felt as if he himself was back at school, a student among students. For a moment he even caught himself thinking about going to one of the secret passages at dusk and taking a trip to the Forbidden Forest for a glimpse of the glorious old days. But two boys from Hufflepuff, who greeted him friendly as "Professor Lupin", reminded him that he was now standing on the other side of the classroom and Remus discarded his daydream. Teachers did not need to sneak away like rascal, nor did they have to. As for the castle, there would still be time to explore it again. Since, according to the poor research so far, the Wolfsbane Potion could cause severe side effects in the first few days of its use, Dumbledore had decided to suspend his lessons until the first full moon to be on the safe side. However, as Remus was probably one of those who had the potion working without any complications, he had a day off today after the stress of moving into his rooms. But only after breakfast, because his stomach growled worse than any wolf. So he made his way to the Great Hall, even if it meant meeting the black eyes of Severus Snape again and the dark clouds hovering above them.

But the same eyes that had angrily sparkled at Remus hours before did not appreciate a single glance at the table. And the following days were also surprisingly quiet. After his appearance as Phantom of the Night, Severus seemed to have lost interest in haunting Remus in his sleep or even in being near him. In fact, they saw each other only very rarely. A distant shadow in the corridors of the school and some overheard conversations among colleagues, in which Snape's name was mentioned, were the only traces that testified to Remus' existence of his old classmate. And if Severus was not the most agreeable colleague, there was one thing you could not blame him for: unreliability. Not a day passed without Remus finding a magically warmed cup of evil brew in his place in the teachers' room, conscientiously instructed on how to take the potion and that there were still supplies available. A few times Remus thought about using the Wolfsbane Potion as an opportunity to have another conversation with Severus. But in those few fleeting moments when they met by chance, the potions master wrapped himself in such a cold, dismissive silence that Remus' lips were sealed again after the first, always unrequited, welcoming phrases.The black eyes spoke more than the narrow lips. A provocative, challenging look stood out beneath the prominent eyebrows, like that of an animal waiting for its prey to venture out of the cave. And this finally made Remus' courage sink. He had fought against Lethifolds and Dementors, against Boggarts and Trolls, and in the gutter of London, in the Palus District, where many damned like him had found refuge, he had also fought with Death Eaters, Hags and countless macabre personalities. But there were demons of a very different kind. Demons that were not so easily defeated.

So it went on for half a week until Tuesday afternoon, which was to be followed by a full moon night. Shortly before two Remus left the Forbidden Section of the school library, where he had compiled a small selection of additional reading for the upper school. In good humour he turned into the corridor, leaving Peeves' pitiful attempts at provocation behind him, which amused rather than annoyed him, because they too belonged to the well-known Hogwarts. Then he saw them: In an alcove between a knight's armour and a bust of Medusa, a girl and a boy stood close together, obviously engrossed in an argument, because they were talking loudly and frantically to each other. Actually, Remus had gotten into the habit of ignoring such scenes in the last few days, unless his intervention was urgently needed. But in this case he suddenly paused in passing. Tatters of the conversation came through to him and suddenly his feet stopped. The name 'Snape' had been mentioned several times, and at second glance it seemed that the teenagers were more upset about something than arguing. Listening intently, Remus turned around after the two of them. He knew the redheaded girl. It was one of Harry's friends who happened to be sharing his compartment on the Hogwarts Express, Ginevra Weasley, a second-grader and daughter of an old acquaintance. The boy, however, was a stranger to him. But he wore a flashy camera around his neck and seemed to be the same age. Their conversation fell silent for an instant when they noticed Remus curiously approaching them.

" Excuse me if I disturb you both", he began to pick up the thread in a friendly manner, "I just overheard you a little bit, you were unfortunately hard to ignore. Is there a problem?"  
For a moment the children looked at him silently and gloomily, exchanging looks as if they were unsure whether they could entrust the reason for their excitement to a teacher. After all, it was the girl who broke the silence.  
"It's about Professor Snape, sir. He took Colin's Gobstone Game and said that Colin could pick it up after the club's tournament on Tuesday and now he won't hand it over.Quietly Remus listened to the story. There was something about it he didn't like. Yet he raised words of appeasement.  
"Surely this is a misunderstanding. Professor Snape probably meant Wednesday and you can pick up your game tomorrow morning".  
He had turned towards the boy with the camera and now that he could assign a student name to him, he wanted to say something friendly. But he did not get far. Immediately the young Miss Weasley took the floor again.  
"No, it's not like that", she contradicted quietly.  
Remus turned his attention to her again and waited curiously for an explanation. But the girl was silent when she felt his gaze rest on her.  
"If there is something I should know, then you should talk about it," Remus assured her after a moment, "otherwise I cannot help you.  
With a smile he added: "Don't worry, it won't be to your disadvantage any more than my chocolate in the Hogwarts Express".  
Uncertain, Ginevra Weasley exchanged another glance with her classmate, then sucked in the air and opened her mouth.  
"Snape did this because of Neville," she said bluntly, "because we told him clearly in potion class on Friday that it was mean to treat him like that.  
Her classmate turned pale in the face of her frankness and Remus raised his eyebrow in amazement. "Neville? Neville Longbottom?"  
He too had been sitting in the last compartment of the school train on the first of September and Remus could not imagine how the shy and somewhat clumsy-looking boy could have gotten himself into trouble in class.  
"Yes", the girl continued and a trace of anger lay in her voice. Then suddenly she was overcome with blunt rage, "He threatened Neville on Thursday to poison his toad because he couldn't get his potion right. When Hermione helped him, he took points off her for that and us too, just for complaining."  
"He did that?!", Remus involuntarily slipped up. For a moment he couldn't believe what he heard. But then the memory of Severus' hateful look shifted back into his consciousness. Now Colin Creevey was also stirring.  
"He - he always talks badly about Harry too", the boy said in a thin, shaky voice, "Always telling us what potion Harry screwed up and what point deductions he got for being a miserable p student and that we should be careful not to follow his example if our grades mean anything to us. But Harry is not bad. Harry is the best!"  
The boy's words faded away in a sudden silence and Remus needed a moment to let them set.  
"Fine," he finally said in a husky voice, "I'll talk to Professor Snape and sort it out. Tomorrow evening you can pick up your Gobstone Game at my office, Colin." Leave now." For a moment the two second graders looked at him sceptically, then the girl nodded her head and gently urged her comrade to leave.  
"Thank you, Professor Lupin, thank you," the young Mr. Creevey shouted to him and rushed after his classmate until they both turned a corner and disappeared.

Thoughtfully Remus also continued on his way. His good mood had evaporated when he finally reached his office door. It was not the first time in his short time at Hogwarts that he had heard complaints about Severus. Unwillingly, he had overheard a few conversations in the teachers' room. But so far he had attributed all the little annoyances of his colleagues to the usual frictions that occur wherever people work together. What he had just heard, however, made him think. Should it really be the case that his problems with him were only the tip of the iceberg? That a basic trait of his nature was expressed here particularly clearly? After all, Severus had not exactly been the epitome of politeness even as a student. Where Sirius and James maltreated him, he himself maltreated Muggleborns with a group of schoolmates. Even Lily, who seemed to be a close friend for years, was finally called a Mudblood. How much had he really changed in the years since she graduated from school? Absent-minded, Remus closed his office and entered. The autumn sun drew the contours of the room, the furniture and boxes in a golden glow. Without a second thought, he sat down at his desk and went through the essays of his students again, which were still piled up there. To replace the lessons that had been cancelled that first week, he had instructed all his classes, by means of a note on the timetable, to write at least a roll and a half of parchment about what they had learned in the last years of school in Defence against the Dark Arts, what they liked and didn't like about the subject, and how they imagined the coming school year. He had wanted to get a picture of each of his confidants. As a teacher, Remus believed that he could best teach a class if he knew the strengths and weaknesses, the likes and dislikes of each individual.

He had quickly gone through the third grade pile and laid out the two essays he had been looking for in front of him. Longbottom' stood on one, 'Potter' on the other. Images rose before his mind as he skimmed the names. The faces of Alice and Frank, before they had been tortured into madness by Sirius' cousin; Sirius' smile; Sirius, who was on the run because he had - incredibly - betrayed Lily and James to Lord Voldemort. Lily and James, the last time Remus had seen them alive with little Harry on their arms; little Harry, who could barely walk. Harry and Neville. Once again Remus immersed himself in reading the spidery manuscripts. Harry's essay drew a smile from him. That the boy hoped to finally learn something practical in Defence against the Dark Arts reminded him of James. But Neville's essay made his heart sink like it had the first time. _Well, I am very bad at defending myself against the Dark Arts. Actually I can't really do anything. I never had a good grade in school except in Herbology._ Those were the first sentences and it didn't get better. Until the end of the parchment scrolls filled with generous blank lines, Neville's essay was a single mixture of self-accusation and emptiness. For the young Longbottom could not name one thing he liked about the subject or one thing he expected in his third year. Filled with thoughts that didn't want to take on a clear form, Remus put the essays back on their pile and turned his attention to the first grade essay he hadn't read through yet.

When the last essay moved from left to right, the sun was already sinking red-hot down the battlements of the castle, soon to make way for a round, silver shining moon. As every month, Remus felt abundantly uncomfortable in his skin. Since he did not want to spoil the food for the others and had no desire for company himself, he decided to skip dinner in the Great Hall and wait in his office. The door was only ajar, and the gramophone was scratchily playing a shellac record from the twenties, when suddenly a black figure, bat-like, rushed into the room. "I hear that you are already insulting the ears of those around you with howling. You can hardly wait until the moon rises, can you?" 

Remus, who had just examined one of the exhibits with the students' wishes in mind and had only noticed Severus' entry out of the corner of his eye, turned around. Just as the door fell into the lock, their eyes met and for the second time in less than a week they were alone. Silence, heated up like the air just before a thunderstorm, set in. Remus felt a feeling of equally raging flames spread through his veins. There he stood before him, Severus Snape, whom he had been thinking about all day. And all of a sudden he didn't know what to feel, what to think and how to react. The sting of the allusion to his 'furry problem' sparked his anger and almost provoked an angry response. But he was wise enough to swallow his words at the last moment. Anyway, what Severus was trying to hurt him with was secondary. It was the thought of what he might have done to his students, should Miss Weasley and Mr Creevey not have lied, that made the potions master an unpleasant presence in the room. Severus, who had apparently expected a counterattack, frowned in confusion as Remus fell silent.  
"Here, your potion, werewolf. Because the fine gentleman colleague doesn't think it's necessary to pick it up! I hope you like it," he finally buzzed reproachfully and slammed a tin cup on one of the boxes so that the brew spilled over. Remus' gaze wandered to the hot puddle that gradually seeped into the wood and he remembered the note that had been lying in his place in the teachers' room that morning and had slipped his mind: "Two rations today!  
"Thank you, Severus", he murmured hoarsely. That was all his lips, closed with disgust, could give. With a hateful look Severus turned away and was about to leave the office as soon as possible. Then Remus thought of something.  
"Wait," he held back his colleague, who actually turned around and gave him a nasty smile, "I heard you confiscated a second grader's gobstone game. Would you mind leaving it to me? It's in good hands here."  
Severus' mood changed abruptly. A smug grin came into his features as if he had seen through the whole thing in a flash.  
"And why should I do that? So that you can gain the favour of the admirers of your oh so esteemed James Potter Junior? Or would you like to invite the lightning-scarred miniature edition of your faded friend to a game yourself, to comfort him about his dementor trauma in the Hogwarts Express?  
Once again Remus had to swallow his feelings. Severus' mind was as sharp as his tongue. One had to be on guard against that. But he himself was not so clueless as to not be able to play this game.  
"No, I just think you have enough on your plate with all your duties as a potions master," he threw another sideways glance at the puddle before he continued in a calm tone, "Enough not to bother with guarding a confiscated object. It is said that students have been known to break into teachers' offices in order to steal something much sought after. And cleaning up a devastated magic-tranklab should certainly be a drudgery".

For a moment nothing happened. Then Remus saw Severus' eyebrows grow together more and more and the potions master gave a half annoyed, half unnerved snort. As expected, he had hit the mark.  
Instead of giving an answer, Severus raised his voice after another moment for a single, loud word: "CLOUDY!  
At once a house elf apparated in Remus' office, bowing before them and asking: "What do the professors want?  
"Get the gobstone out of my office, desk, middle shelf on the left and give it to Professor Lupin," Severus replied curtly.  
The house elf bowed and disappeared.His colleague looked Remus sincerely straight in the eyes. His gaze was filled with blatant hatred and something angry and dangerous flashed in it like an animal about to jump.  
"I warn you, Lupin," he murmurted oily, "Too much trust has its price. You don't know the students at Hogwarts yet, so let me tell you this: Every punishment has a good reason. If the game should fall back into the hands of a certain Colin Creevey, you might regret it bitterly."  
With an unmistakable nod in the direction of the Wolfsbane Potion, the Potion Master whirled around and moved on.

Remus calmly let the threat pass and waited silently until Severus had left. He could not yet say whether he could trust his impression or whether it was a betrayal; whether Miss Weasley and Mr Creevey had spoken the truth or exaggerated it excessively. But Remus could clearly feel something like a chain mail falling off him when his old classmate had left and a shiver gripped him. He would be on his guard. He would keep a close eye on the two boys and also on his colleague. And if it was indeed the case that Frank and Alice's son had had so little success at school, there would now be a teacher who believed in him: Him.

With this thought Remus turned away to wait for the return of the house elf. A shadow fell through the arched window into the room: in the distance, a dementor made his rounds before the sun. 


	6. Ice Age

"Swap my classes with yours?!"

The thin-lipped mouth literally spat out the sentence, chased it with a hiss through closed rows of teeth, each word separately. The nostrils flared like a bull's nose just before the gate to the arena was opened. And in black eyes flashed anger.  
"Why?" nagged the drinking master, "Isn't a double hour enough for you to sow your rotten seed among the students? Should I ask the principal to replace you with a more capable teacher?"  
The long, yellowish fingers clawed firmly at the freshly filled cup as if they wanted to break it into pieces. Remus withstood the gaze, even though he knew he was the cup that was crushed. He took a deep breath to maintain his composure as his counterpart began to foam more and more. Then Severus abruptly turned away from him to stir a tiny drop of milk into his coffee and Remus looked at the wooden panelled wall.  
"I thought it would also benefit the students of your house if they gained some practical experience in fighting Porgebins. Now that the dementors are making hunting easier for them and they are more likely to be seen at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. You know, getting a Porgebin to give up his stone form and attack takes time," he explained calmly as they stood side by side in front of the kitchen counter.  
"And you think I would sacrifice even one second of my valuable lessons so that _you_ could try your dilettantism on my students? Why don't you borrow Trelawney's closet? I'm sure the Porgebins would laugh so hard at the sight of you that they would forget to turn to stone. I understand you have some experience with this method. Have a _nice_ day!"  
Steps made Remus pay attention. His counterpart had turned around and was about to leave.  
"Wait Severus, please!" he shouted after him. Halfway along the way, the drinking master stopped and looked back at him once more. Looks like arrows shot out of dark eyes.  
"I said no, _werewolf_ ," he hissed, "And that is my final word. Goodbye, colleague."  
With an appraising look at Aurora Sinistra, who had hidden the argument behind a magazine, and a stabbing, threatening and hate-soaked look at Remus, Severus silently continued his way.

Remus let him go and watched silently as the black cape disappeared into the door frame. He would not follow Severus, not crawl before him. Only one single attempt, he had sworn to himself. And this attempt had just failed, even though he had hoped to the end that Severus would at least make an exception for his own house. Well, then he would just ask Flitwick for another exchange.Or, in an emergency, he would take the entire grade at once. What did it matter?

A lot! It mattered a lot. Sighing, Remus turned around and nervously poured some milk into his tea. The thing got to him. Closer than maybe it should. Almost three weeks had passed since his unfortunate first lesson with Harry's class, in which the children had to fight a boggart. And since then, their relationship had long since returned to the characteristics of their school days, at least from Severus' side. Hypothermia was no longer an expression. It was the Ice Age. During the first week and a half at Hogwarts, Remus had been followed by challenging or scornful looks; if the narrow lips had accompanied his actions with scorn and cynicism, the potions master had treated him like air from that day on. No 'good morning' in the hallway drew even a gloomy look from him; students Remus sent to him declared desperately on their return that Professor Snape did not know any Professor Lupin, and at the unscheduled conference on an incident with the dementors that had attacked a group of seventh-graders of full age on a Hogsmeade excursion, Severus took the floor as soon as Remus moved his lips. That he reacted at all to his current concern with the fifth graders was only because Remus happened to catch him in the corner with the tea kitchen and could force him to listen.

Thoughtfully, he watched the white streaks dissolve into the brown liquid as a sleepy voice came to his ear.  
"Never mind. Asking Snape for a favor is like looking for the gold at the end of the rainbow," Professor Sinistra noted, and yawned audibly as she continued, "He's a testbook example of a misanthrope. The best thing to do is just to avoid him."  
She must have noticed his depressed mood and now she tried to comfort him. But her words did not calm Remus at all. On the contrary, they were tinder for his guilty conscience. For if Severus had developed into a picture-book misanthrope, then he, too, had a part in it. In the last weeks Remus had seen enough and heard enough to form his own opinion about Severus. And it was a judgment that took into account not only the grumpy teacher, but also the slender third grader, who was attacked by several classmates at once and could not defend himself because his wand had fallen to the ground. But despite the burden of his growing feelings of guilt, despite his desire for clarification, Remus had not descended into the dungeons to have a word with Severus. More than that: he had, albeit unintentionally, even poured new oil on the fire; had, on his own authority, with a pointed finger, drilled into the wound that he had hoped would be healed in all these years. Had put the crown of mockery on his cowardice.

"I think you are doing Severus wrong," he calmly replied to Aurora as the morning light grazed her dark face and the woman struggled to fall asleep, "He has a right to be angry. No one likes to be shown off. It's my fault."  
Aurora's eyes, which just now had the veil of tiredness in them, looked at Remus with astonishment. But he looked down and stepped bashfully to the dish rack to dispose of his tea bag. At the same moment he heard the door go, but from his point of view he could not see who was entering.  
"No man is evil from the bottom up," he continued regardless of the visitor, "I am sure that there are friendly sides to Severus, even if he does not show them at all. Even if he behaves like the axe in the woods, who can say why? Anyone who has already caused so much trouble himself needs a mild hand instead of a declaration of war.  
Actually Remus had only thought aloud to himself and yet he received a reply.  
"These are wise words, Remus", a familiar voice agreed with him. But it did not belong to Professor Sinistra. Surprised, Remus turned around. He immediately recognized the red robe embroidered with stars and the long, silver beard in the door frame.  
"Professor Dumbledore," he called out in surprise and looked at his superior, who returned his gaze with a mixture of admiration and concern. Quietly, the headmaster closed the door behind him and entered the room before inquiring about Remus' condition.  
"Are there any difficulties?" he asked seriously. But Remus shook his head gently.  
"Just a small, uh, difference of opinion, nothing more," he replied as he lowered his eyes into the teacup along with a lump of sugar, "I'm on my way as well, and should be in the classroom by now.  
Hastily he gathered his things together, tucked them under his arm and balanced his garbage towards the door. He was uncomfortable with the principal's presence and his follow-up. So it was high time to leave. Grasping the door handle, Remus mumbled a few parting words, then he pushed it through. Out of the corner of his eye he could still see Professor Sinistra shrugging her shoulders and almost falling asleep standing up while packing her copy of "Astronomy Up To Date". He could no longer see Dumbledore's face. But he thought he could feel his eyes clearly on the back of his neck as they followed him as he crossed the threshold.

The autumn air that came in through a torn open window could not cool down his hot thoughts. Even though Severus had certainly long since stretched his nose over a student's kettle in his dungeon room, he was still like a shadow that followed Remus through the corridors and held his spirit captive. As stoically as the potions master tried to deny his existence, Remus clearly felt the bitter pill of his revenge. For nearly three weeks it proved almost impossible to get students from Slytherins to cooperate. Not only Malfoy and his clique, who, as Remus had found out, were enemies of Harry. No, it went through all classes. Either they denied them his lessons completely or they disturbed other students. House points that he deducted were always replenished by double after lunch or dinner.Occasionally, when someone didn't show up for class at all, and Remus informed his colleague in writing, it was excused with detention, punishment or stays in the Hospital Wing. And one time, after Remus failed to lock it overnight, he found his classroom completely devastated. He did not believe that Severus had deliberately instigated all these things. Such a clumsy way of paying back had not been his style even in his school days. But he was sure that he sowed hatred against him extensively among the students of his house and rewarded every flower of this seed generously. Of course, Remus did not take all these things - he had found the culprits with the help of the portraits in the corridor and imposed punitive measures on them; had gone over to rewarding the good behavior of the other houses in particular; had converted students and had begun to make his lessons so practical that everyone noticed for themselves that disturbing and being late was not in his favor.Nevertheless, the hatred that was directed at him for a vulture's hat clearly got to him. He needed a harmonious working atmosphere. He needed peace instead of war. And to make matters worse, the principal gradually seemed to get wind of the matter. It was not the first time that he had observed their encounters with critical looks, nor was it the first time that Remus had tried to escape the cautious inquiries by making excuses. As much as he appreciated Dumbledore, this was a matter between him and Severus.

Severus. The name seemed to shine like a bell sign next to the door when Remus reached his office to get some more cages. In fact, his class did not start for half an hour. The black robe, the thought phantom, followed him ghostly as he entered. Remus did not ask himself why his old enemy punished him so abstractly, why he hardly behaved collegially towards the others either. He knew the answer too well. Exclusion, loneliness and contempt could leave a lasting impression on a person. He himself had spent ten years of his childhood in loneliness, and in the Palus District he saw again and again how new faces rewarded their expulsion from the magician community after a while with crime and counter-contempt. Who knows what would have become of him if Dumbledore had not given him a chance to go to school and James, Sirius and Peter had not found him in that darkness and lit a light? His friends and Severus' enemies, who had all too often trampled the Slytherin underfoot. For far too long he had tolerated it with a his eyes open for fear of losing them. And then there was something else. In his teenage years, he had not thought about it, for as a child of a middle-class family, he himself had never suffered in this respect. But today, when he looked back on the pictures of his school days, Remus felt the cling to them. The always greasy hair, the holes and cracks in the school cape, the tattered books... of course he did not know the exact circumstances in which Severus Snape had grown up. But the neglected appearance of his classmate spoke volumes. He himself, who in the meantime only piled up worn, tattered and thousandfold patched clothes in his sparse cupboards, knew very well by now what circumstances led to the fact that one could not even afford a new textbook.

For a moment, Remus looked thoughtlessly into the eyes of the Jarvey, who was ranting and raving at him as he maneuvered the cage onto a handcart with his wand. Then he chased the past out of his head. All this might have aroused due pity for Severus, but it was no excuse. Something else was: a phantom in a cupboard. Breathing heavily, Remus squeezed his eyes together. Why in the name of God had all this had to take such a turn, especially in a phase in which he had hoped to somehow bury the hatchet of the past? Severus had to believe that he had deliberately wanted to ridicule him in front of the class, even the school. But it was not like that. Bless me! If there was one thing he did not want, it was to make fun of his colleagues. Actually, he hadn't wasted a single thought on Severus in that class. For him, 'Professor Snape' had not been a real person in this situation, but only the image of a student's fear. A student who lacked self-esteem and desperately needed his help. And he had only done what any good teacher would have done in his place: To show the boy how to face his fear. He had wanted to lead the boggart a merry dance, not his colleagues. Had it been wrong?

Thoughtfully, Remus threw a cloth over the cage with the Jarvey and secured it for transport. As so often in the last two and a half weeks, he regretted the way this lesson had ended.Not that he had asked Neville Longbottom to imagine Severus wearing an ugly hat. Remus would always teach him and all his confidants to take on evil creatures. No, what he regretted were the ten minutes he had left to take his time. Ten minutes to impress upon the class that everything that had happened in that lesson should never leave the teachers' room; that he did not want to hear that anyone was using the fear of his classmates or the imagination with which they fought it to talk about others, be it an unpopular classmate, a hated teacher, or whoever else lived under the battlements of the castle.

Heavy loaded Remus pushed the handcart out into the corridor, which was now flooded with blinding sunlight. Blinking in the September sun, he spoke a Featherlight over the wagon and pulled it further along the corridors. Once again, going over the plans for the next few hours, he tried to distract his thoughts from Severus. But the Slytherin students who came to meet him from a classroom thwarted his plans. In the gallery on the third floor, Remus finally stopped and looked down into the depths with a gloomy, cloudy forehead. His gaze had just crossed the railing to reach the staircase that led down to the dungeons on the first floor below him. Blackness stabbed at him as if from the entrance of a cave. Or maybe a grave? A grave of the past, into which Severus had dug himself. The sight drove a cold shiver down Remus' spine.Despite his secret oath not to let Snape break the students through his teaching methods, he could not hide the fact that he felt a little sorry for his colleague. Someone who had overcome the past so little that he apparently used the new generation for his revenge was in pitiful shape.

A heaviness as if after a sleepless night lay down on Remus' limbs. He wanted to continue on his way. But something held him down and turned his feet into lead. A quiet voice inside him. What was the use of all the compassion, all the misgivings and the bad conscience, if they only went round and round in his head like a record, mocked them. Soon a whole month had passed since he had stepped over the threshold of school.Four weeks of ignorance and malice, of aversion and guilt, of thoughts rolled to death in self-pity. And not once had he really tried to enter that dark exit to sort things out. Had tried to appease the urge with reasonable reasons instead of giving himself a jolt. How long did he actually want to stand up here and do nothing but look down from the parapet into the void? To flee from everything that disturbed the peace had always been one of his greatest weaknesses. Remus knew it only too well. Ilaria's letter still weighed heavily on his conscience, unopened. But this was not about something that had happened months ago. He couldn't sneak away again, just to grieve about his escape afterwards! Severus would not stop. He would never give up the ghosts of his own free will. There was only one way to end this vendetta and he himself held the key in his hand.

A slight dizziness overcame Remus as he looked down the floors. But the decision grew. Four weeks of tacit agreement in this war of cowardice were enough! He was no longer fifteen; he could not lose James, Sirius and Peter, for they had long since left him. As soon as the opportunity arose, he swore to himself with the insults of a cheeky ferret in his ear, he would visit Severus to finally clear the air. It was only a question of time.


	7. A reconciliation?

On the stone steps, the low shoes left a muffled sound. The sound, which could not escape anywhere in the narrow staircase, broke on the walls and forced its way back to the center. The walls chewed off icy cold. Almost as if winter was dwelling in them and was only waiting for December to finally be able to climb up into the battlements. Remus froze. For a moment he wished he still held the cup of Wolfsbane Potion in his hand. As disgusting as the brew tasted, it could have given him some warmth now. It was the last day of September and the first day he had found his medicine back in its place after dinner, with it the long-awaited occasion for the difficult conversation that lay ahead of him. Carefully he put one step before the other, once again going through all the things he wanted to tell Severus. Once again, the spiral staircase to the dungeon reminded him of the access to a tomb. Even the torches, which otherwise bathed the whole castle in a flickering glow, had been extinguished here in places. The deeper Remus penetrated into this underground corridor, the more he had the feeling of being buried himself.

At last he had reached the door halfway up, next to which the promising gold shield was displayed:

SEVERUS SNAPE

PROFESSROR FOR POTIONS

OFFICE

Remus paused to look at the black indentations of the letters. Without the sound of his leather shoes on the stone, the night silence was impenetrable. A fine curtain of cobwebs covered the door jamb and from the depths of the dungeon a stale, musty stench rose. What if Severus would not listen to him? What if he even took his appearance at such a late hour as a provocation and the trench between them deepened even more? Remus took a deep breath without being able to free his nose from the slight rot that was in the air. But the matter had been fermenting for too long and wanted to be finally put behind him. With Merlin, he should have had this conversation twenty years ago! The longing for the armistice ate away the last doubt. He boldly clenched his hand to his fist and knocked loudly against the wood.

Once

Twice

Three times

Nothing stirred. Disappointed, he wanted to turn away again, when suddenly a metallic clicking sound followed by a rattling sound. The door opened a crack wide, through which pale light penetrated into the spiral corridor, and above a chain lock appeared the coarse hooked nose of Severus Snapes. For a second the black eyes looked at Remus with the expression of surprise. Then suddenly the gaze darkened and the distance between the eyebrows narrowed to an angry line.

"The Wolfsbane Potion will not be available again until tomorrow," nagged the voice and the face withdrew from the light gap. Remus, who had already reckoned with the rebuff, rammed his foot between the door and the hinge, just in time to receive a strong blow against his shoe.

"Severus, I have to talk to you," he shouted - a little distorted with pain, while the blood pulsed in his bruised toe. A snorting sounded on the other side, then a murmur.

"I wouldn't know what we have to talk about!"

A soft rustle mingled with the words as if from a wand that was slowly pulled out of the inside pocket of a magic cape and Remus knew he had to hurry.

"You can send me away now," he replied hastily, "and I will come back tomorrow at the same time. But just give me ten minutes and I won't bother you any further."

All at once the rustling ceased and gave way to a tense silence whose seconds of life seemed to last for eternities. Then the pressure on Remus' foot unexpectedly subsided. The rift widened. The lock was removed with a rattling of chains and the door swung open.

Remus tightened and then stopped on the threshold, spellbound. The sight he was presented with was breathtaking. Preserving jars, crates and flacons were piled high up on the walls. Potion Ingredients over Potion Ingredients as in Slugshorn's time, except that it was noticeably darker in the office. For a moment Remus looked around, while a thousand memories of his school days overwhelmed him. But then a voice brought him back to the present.

"Ten minutes," hissed Severus, drew his wand and aimed at an old-fashioned egg timer that rested hidden between some long-necked bottles on a shelf. Under the constant ticking that hovered over him like a sword of Damocles, Remus entered the realm of the potion master. Through a door at the back of the room, which had always been closed in the past, he could just about catch a glimpse into a kind of laboratory, where a strange apparatus consisting of three boilers, glass cylinders and flasks stood on a table, in front of it a whole basket of bezoars and next to it, opened, an ancient book with a lock. With a wrinkled forehead he looked at the scene when the picture was suddenly taken out of his view. Crashing in front of him and behind him the massive doors fell into their locks and he was trapped in the dungeon.

Severus did not keep up greeting phrases nor did he otherwise pay him much attention.

"I don't have forever, get to the point, werewolf!" he buzzed impatiently as Remus still remained silent after a minute, while he himself walked through the room, pulling a bag here, a metal can there from the shelves with purposeful movements. Remus reflected. He had no intention of pressuring Severus beyond the wrested minutes, nor of wasting the only chance he would ask for.

"I wanted to thank you for the Wolfsbane Potion," he reeled off the rehearsed words, pretended not to have heard the insult and fixed the back of his counterpart, "I would be lost without your help.

Severus turned around and ruffled his forehead. He had put on a mine as if he had just listened to a dementor giving a lecture on the Shrine of Charity. Only slowly did his features change; a sneering smile appeared on his face, revealing that he had understood.

"The Wolfbane Potion," he explained so slowly, emphasizing how to speak to small children, "was Dumbledore's idea. To my truly _greatest_ regret, I am _unfortunately_ bound by orders of the principal. If you want to say thank you: third floor, seventh corridor, massive gargoyle. But I warn you, Lupin. The principal is not as generous as me with teachers who force their way in. Good evening!"

Without giving him another glance, the Potions Master turned away from him and continued his work with erratic movements. But Remus could not be turned away so easily. Not before he had come to his actual request. Quietly, he lowered himself onto one of the rickety stools in front of the desk and tried to make himself comfortable in this place, where generations of students had probably served their sentences.

"I know that I owe my position primarily to Dumbledore. But what would the principal's decision be without the help of capable and reliable staff?"

His calmly spoken words floated in the room while he looked expectantly at the robe and the black, greasy hair of his counterpart. Severus let the jar he was holding in his hands sink again and slowly, much more slowly than before, he turned to him again. The expression on his face had changed. His forehead still lay in deep wrinkles and touched his eyebrows. But the gaze had gained in sharpness. Soaked with suspicion, the dark eyes began to pierce Remus, at the same time the lips twitched in the narrow face.

"What do you really want," Severus asked cuttingly, while the pale glow of the only lamp on the desk made his features threateningly stand out, "You are certainly not here to butter me up!

Remus took a deep breath. So there it had come, the moment of truth.

"I wanted to apologize to you," he calmly explained, "for everything that ever happened between us.

Silence

Severus, who had just appraised him, stopped in front of him, frozen to a pillar of salt, his facial features slipping away to sheer disbelief. Remus, who could no longer bear this look, these eyes that seemed to hold court over his guilt, turned away and stared at the clock. Five minutes had already passed.

"We did not have a good time," he continued quietly, "not a good relationship. Not only in the last month. Even before, actually always. We've always had our differences."

" _Differences?!",_ snorted Severus, the sound pervaded by fermenting rage, "a nice euphemism. Who put it in your ear? Dumbledore?"

Remus sighed softly, still avoiding the gaze of his old enemy.

"No, you're right," he murmured, "it was much more than that.

Collecting himself, Remus took a deep breath. A thought process later he jumped up and started walking up and down the room, trying to keep his excitement at bay. As he continued to speak, his voice swelled.

"I know that you hate me and I can understand it. So much has happened in the past that was not right. The way James and Sirius treated you back then - I know it wasn't right, it was wrong from the bottom up. But..."

Nervously Remus began to play around with a vial that lay on a side table. He quickly let go of it again when he noticed after a brief sideways glance that Severus was biting his teeth in a burgeoning rage. For a moment he was silent, he thought. Then he looked up and looked directly into the flashing eyes of his counterpart.

"I have never hated you, you should know that. Whatever they did to you, it was never my intention proven. I never wanted this argument between us, neither in our school days nor today, and if I kept silent in the past, it was only because they were my friends. But now James and Peter are dead and Sirius should be in Azkaban. Times have changed, Severus. After so many years, shouldn't we finally bury the hatchet and start dealing with each other like adults? Let's leave the past behind us!"

"The past behind us...", Severus repeated the words with an absent expression on his face as if he had to realize their meaning first. Then suddenly his temple began to throb and the color of sour milk shot into his face.

"Nice plan, Lupin," he sneered, "A bit of theater, a half-hearted apology speech, a faithful sinner's face, and seven years are simply forgotten. That's the same thing before the Wizengamot, isn't it? I bet Fudge and the jury would immediately absolve you of any guilt with your self-pitying whimpering. Look at this poor man, he's suffering, isn't he? Well, I wouldn't be so sure I could get away with it if I were you. Accessory to attempted murder is a crime, werewolf."

Remus stared at him, stunned and taken aback.

"What are you talking about?" - he hadn't the faintest idea what was going on in the other man's mind.

"Oh," Severus replied, and the black eyes flashed with hatred and vengeance, "I think you know exactly what I'm talking about. The full moon, the whipping willow... well, do you have any fond memories?

The words took a long time to reach Remus. But then, when he realized, it was as if someone had pulled the ground from under his feet. A wave of ice water rushed through his body, paralyzing him to the core. As if hit by a spell, something inside him collapsed. So that was what Severus thought? What did he think he was capable of? A strange mixture of horror and rage was brewing inside him. Throughout his life, ever since that unfortunate visit of Greyback at his crib, the beast within him had always been his greatest enemy. His nightmares were filled with the crimes he might commit in his life since he was a little boy. And there was that ghastly morning every month. This morning when he couldn't look in the mirror because he still recognized the traces of the Beast inside him. How could anyone believe that he had made himself the accomplice of such a macabre prank? The thought stung. Deeper than any pejorative 'werewolf' from which the pain of the past spoke. Sirius and he had been in thick air for weeks, until his friend came crawling to his cross, quite contrite, and made a confession of sin that demanded a lot from his pride.

Hit, Remus gasped for breath. Then he raised his hand as if in a reflex to a warning gesture.

"This is an insinuation," he shouted indignantly, "None of this is true! I had no idea!"

Severus eyed him, crossed his arms and smiled. A smile that would almost have been pitiful if it had not been infused with deep bitterness. And although his counterpart was silent, Remus thought he could hear his thoughts clearly 'Of course, you liar! ‘. The needle bored itself further into the flesh. In emerging panic, Remus looked around, looking for words or something else to prove his innocence. Then his gaze fell on a small bottle with a clear potion and the label made him breathe a sigh of relief like deep, dark waters rising.

VERITASERUM

He did not hesitate for a second. He immediately took the truth potion from the shelf and turned back to Severus. Upright he stood before him and looked him in the eyes again with determination.

"If you do not believe me, then put me to the test. Here!"

Without the slightest hint of trembling, he held out the outstretched hand with the vial to his old enemy. The gesture triggered a new change in Severus. From sceptically drawn eyebrows, his expression changed from a curiously protruding nose to surprisingly dilated pupils. And then something happened that Remus couldn't explain with the best will in the world: Severus jumped back. Almost like an animal that had the wand between its eyes.

"What is this?!", he reigned Remus from a distance at "Will you waste my supplies?

"No", Remus replied enthusiastically, "just to prove to you that I mean it honestly".

For a moment, Severus stood before him petrified, staring at him, impossible for Remus to read in the unfathomable face. Then, when his counterpart still did not move, he slowly began to release the cork of the vial.

"Stop that," Severus suddenly addressed him, "Put it back immediately!

Remus, for whom the unmistakably harsh tone of voice was like an order, immediately complied with the request. Just as he turned to the side, he saw who, like the potion master, raised his wand and looked deep into his eyes. A slight pain twitched through Remus' temple and vaguely blurred images from his school days came to his consciousness. But both disappeared as quickly as they had come.

When he turned around again, sweat was pouring from Severus' forehead.

"Get out," whispered his old classmate without giving Remus the chance to reply, "Go, NOW!

The overt undertone of panic in Severus' voice shook him again. What was going on at Merlin's beard?!

Remus found no answer and did not look for one for long. Anyone who had ever stood before a herd of furiously snorting Tebos knew when it was time to leave. "I am sorry," he replied to Severus in a firm voice, but without knowing what he was actually apologizing for. Then he turned around and left the room with measured steps.

Outside, when the door behind him had fallen into the lock, he threw himself against the wall and tried unsuccessfully to cool down his hot thoughts on the cold brickwork. A whiff of desperation germinated. How could things get so out of hand? Confused, Remus stared into the dark, trying to understand what had happened. It took a moment before he realized that he was no longer alone. On the spiral staircase, footsteps approached from above. Alarmed, Remus moved back into the vertical as the cone of light from a wand light fell around the bend. When finally a cape and a face followed, it was a surprise for both.

"Professor Lupin!" cried the man on the stairs to him.

"Headmaster" replied Remus. And for a moment they remained in silence.

"You were with Severus?", the principal finally asked and lowered the wand so as not to blind Remus as he came down the steps to him.

Remus, whose throat was still tied by what he had just experienced, just nodded silently and felt the looks of the old eyes wandering over him.

"And it wasn't because of the Wolfbane Potion," Dumbledore noted more than he asked. His tone carried the full weight of unspoken words.

"No," replied Remus sheepishly, looking down sadly, looking at the cold, cracked stone of the stairs, the cobwebs and the dust; listening to the memories that began to speak to him in the sudden silence. All the scenes of the last few weeks that he had hoped to conclude with today - in vain.

When he looked up again, Dumbledore's blue eyes still rested on him. Not demanding, not accusing, just waiting. A fatherly look wrapped in the haze of secret knowledge. Almost at the same time as Remus, his breath discharged in a soft sigh.

"I see," he murmured calmly.

For a moment Remus looked up at the silver-bearded Eminence, who was a head taller than him. Then suddenly his lips opened and his tongue loosened. Everything that he had accumulated in him for weeks gushed out of him as if by magic.


	8. Severus' Demons

Severus stared at the door, stared at it as if he wanted to burn signs into the wood by the power of his eyes. Only slowly did the embers in his veins cool down, fumed away his anger. His anger at himself. What the heck had he wanted to make it as easy for himself as he had done with Creevey's goblin stone game and had accepted the temptation that a ten-minute sacrifice might spare him from further annoying visits? What was the lousy werewolf doing down here anyway? And what in Merlin's beard had driven him, Severus, to address him at Black's murderous prank and enter his head, after his willingness to take the strongest truth serum had already spoken volumes? 

The egg timer rang and Severus gritted his teeth. He could not bear what he had read in the mind of his old enemy. Not that Lupin had lied to him in all audacity. Oh no, the matter was much worse: his colleague had been absolutely honest. His slate had been clean through and through and he was as innocent as the young morning. Had it not been his office and had he not had to get rid of the dirt himself, Severus would have spit on the floor. Lupin's ignorance in this matter was the last thing he needed. He had seen the truth and hated it. He wanted to close his eyes to it and could not deny what was so obvious. ' _But now James and Peter are dead and Sirius should be in Azkaban_ ,' the words echoed in his head. Yes, the three had paid their price for their corruption. But nothing, nothing of it made up for what they had done to Severus. Seven years! Seven years of "Snivellus" cries in the schoolyard and dirty laughter, seven years of being outdone and outshone; seven years of curses in the corridors, cowardly shot from ambush! A whole school time in an unfair war, the crimes of which had not yet been judged by any Wizengamot, which merely dusted in old diaries, neatly noted down. And in the end Lily's wedding vow! They were wounds that still burned as if they had just been cut into the flesh. And there remained only one for whom Severus could still demand a just punishment; one whom he could make atone for the deeds of all, one whom he could call to account and to whom he could raise hell. One who was _innocent_! Hang it all! How could one lead such a man to the execution block without sullying one's own vest?

Feeling as if he had fallen into his own trap, Severus finally turned away and took a bottle of gold lacquer tincture from the shelf. The cool glass nestled pleasantly against the palms of his hands and he gradually came to his senses. This time he had backed the wrong horse. But even if he lost a card - even if it was his greatest trump card - seven years was a long time and Lupin had been in debt for many things that Severus could accuse him of. Moreover, he was a werewolf and werewolves should not be allowed to walk around freely in a place full of untrained wizards and become a danger to life and limb! 

With this conciliatory thought Severus had just begun to take all the essences and suds, the pickled dragon's spleen, frog's eyes, gingival algae and moonstone powder over to the laboratory when there was another knock at the dungeon door. With an irritated snort he left the ingredients on the worktop between the distiller and the bezoars and stomped back to the office. What did this cursed moon howler want now? But it wasn't Lupin at all, who waited outside his door in the penumbra of a wand light.

"Good evening, Severus, may I come in," the principal asked politely, while a spider rappelled down from the doorbeam and took off over the brim of his pointed hat.

For a moment Severus looked at him in surprise.

"Of course, Headmaster," he then replied and let his superior enter.

"What is it, Dumbledore? I'm very busy right now," he continued as the closed door behind them freed him from the stiff politeness. Albus took a deep breath.

"Since you could not attend yesterday's evening conference due to your out-of-town appointment, I actually wanted to inform you about the latest security measures. After Sirius Black was spotted in Dethtown and it is likely that he will continue to approach the school, we have decided to be even more careful.

Dumbledore went on to summarize the conference, pointing out that every teacher is required to report immediately to the principal if they hear anything suspicious before the Daily Prophet. But Severus only listened with half an ear. Since Albus had been out of the house for the day and no one had predicted when he would return, McGonagall had told him everything in the teachers' room early in the morning. But one word caught his attention.

" _Actually_ , Dumbledore?," he interrupted his superior sharply. Albus casually glanced at the shelves as if he was just glancing out the window to assess the weather for a walk.

"I met Professor Lupin on the stairs," he confessed calmly and without beating about the bush.

In the blink of an eye, Severus stared at his mentor, felt the words bore needle-like into his auditory canal. Then he whirled around and tossed the remaining jars into a wooden box, hastily and energetically as the embers of his newly flaring up rage would do.

"So? What lies did he tell you?!" he hissed.

"As far as I can tell, not a single one," came a calm reply from Dumbledore, whose figure he perceived only as a blurred shadow in the corner of his eye. Severus snorted. That was obvious! The venerable member of the Order of the Phoenix, the oh so tame werewolf, naturally was in Albus' good books just like Potter, his Golden Calf.He, the former Death Eater, who should be happy to have a roof over his head, was made to eat dust. Severus did not need Sibyll Trelawney to know what was to follow: a lecture on the necessity of forgiveness, spiced with some mysterious, useless wisdom. A kick in the stomach! 

"Severus..." Albus whispered as if to prove it. 

Severus looked up with poisonous glances, hurled his wrath at the principal and at least gained the victory of a sigh. Their eyes met briefly, then Dumbledore stepped quietly past him to the desk and took a seat on the stool where the fine colleague had sat before.

"I am not here to side with Remus," he calmly declared. Severus fixed him again with a piercing look.

"Then what for, Dumbledore?," he replied, just suppressing a scornful 'Oh well?!

Albus did not answer immediately. He took a deep breath like someone gathering for a long explanation.

"Because of _you_ , Severus," he then spoke, "to do _you_ a favor. To save you from making a mistake that will ultimately cause yourself more harm than Remus Lupin."

The light of the lamp on the desk played around the wrinkled face, made the beard ghostly glow and for a moment silence prevailed. 

"If you want to do me a favor, Dumbledore," Severus took the floor and forced himself to a calm tone, "Then throw him out. He's a danger to the school, to Potter! You know how good his friendship with Black is!"

" _Was_ ," Albus corrected him as if shot out of a gun, "That friendship was more than a decade ago. It no longer counts since Black's betrayal. Remus is on our side and he is trustworthy. I don't believe any danger emanates from him".

Severus felt he soon would fly off the handle. Dumbledore's words were like lashes. All the wounds reopened, all the memories whirled around in his head. 

"No danger?! He and his fine friends tried to _kill_ me! Seven years, Dumbledore, seven they made my life a living hell. But that doesn't count, does it?! It's all about that dirty little Slyth-"

"Nonsense," Dumbledore contradicted in unmistakable force. Then he closed his eyes for a moment and looked visibly exhausted. As he continued, his tone had regained its old mildness.

"I will not deny your pain, Severus. The past sometimes weighs crushingly heavy on us. All the more if we add each moment of the present to the old mosaic instead of trying to look at it in the light of its time and recognize its true core". 

He paused for thought. His gaze seemed to wander into the distance. Then he shook his head and stood up.

"Remus' regret about your enmity seems sincere to me. Nevertheless, I see that the sting is probably still too deep for my words to have much effect. Therefore, for the time being, I will no longer keep you from your work, which is so important to you."

A sad smile, which was already nipped in the bud, stole over the old lips and heavy warmth was reflected in the blue eyes. Wordlessly he turned away and walked towards the exit. Shortly before the door, however, he suddenly paused. 

"One more thing perhaps, Severus," he picked up the thread again and turned to the shelves. As he continued speaking, he stroked with his long fingers over one of the old bottles that were lined up there and examined it intensely.

"Preserving the hate has never solved a problem. It is not a healing potion, but a poison that insidiously destroys both sides. I have no doubt that Remus has not the slightest intention of belittling the injustice that has been done to you.

Then suddenly he turned around one last time, looked Severus piercingly in the eyes.

"Everyone deserves to make amends for an old mistake. Give him a chance, Severus, for your own good. Have a good evening."

And with these words, the principal of Hogwarts had left. 

Severus remained in the room - motionless, frozen to stone, struck by the sincere compassion in Dumblesdore's looks, gestures and emphatic words that swarmed around him like bats. As every time after such conversations with Albus, a feeling of deep insecurity gnawed at him. What had he wanted to tell him in a roundabout way? What riddle had he given him this time to crack?

Uncertain and deeply lost in thought, Severus returned to the laboratory. An impenetrable silence welcomed him: no bubbling of the cauldron, no mouse in the cracked walls, only the constant whispering of his own thoughts. He wanted to pull his wand and finally light the fire under the distiller. But in that moment he felt again what he had been repressing for hours: the heaviness in his limbs; the dullness that pressed down his eyelids; the dull feeling in his head when he tried to concentrate. It had been two long days, and for some reason he could no longer resist the signs of exhaustion. For a moment he looked at all the ingredients he had brought to his experiment. Then, with a precise movement of his hand, Severus closed the book with the children's writing, closed it and put it back into the press box with the imprint 'Merlin Academy, Faculty of Potions' together with the bezoars. With a muttered 'Nox' the two torches in the niches went out and Severus dragged himself through the darkness into the bedroom. Cold crept under the door slit and flowed around his bare feet on the tiles while he put on his nightgown. As he lay down to bed, he still saw Dumbledore in front of him. Neville Longbotton's face suddenly joined in, leaving a bitter aftertaste. Grinding his teeth, Severus turned around, tried to empty his mind and fall asleep. But the image haunted him into his dreams...

_The teachers' room. Longbottom with a strained face, wielding the wand. There, behind him: Remus Lupin, a spiteful grin on his face. "Go on, put the vulture hat on him, put him in the dress. Come on, finish him! Let him become the laughing stock of the whole school so we can all have our fun," he cheers the boy on._

_"Oh give him a chance, he doesn't mean it!", a voice whispers somewhere._

_The teachers' room becomes blurred, corridors emerge from dark fog. Heartbeat, shortness of breath. Severus runs. His wand hand is empty. Expelliarmus', it still resounds in his ears, his arm hurts. "Well, what is it, Snivellus, so cowardly? Someone laughs - everything laughs. Severus turns around. Four faces also build themselves before him: Potter, Black, Pettigrew, Lupin. He wants to reply something nasty, but hoarseness closes his throat, presses hot tears into his eyes. Lupin stares at him without a movement._

_"Oh, give him a chance, he deserves it!", the voice whispers._

_The corridor dissolves, forming the library. Book series after book series. Foliants heavy on the arm. Suddenly steps. A giggle. Boys' voices. Then - too quickly - a movement. The book walls sway, the books fall to the floor. A veiled look, the head swells, further and further. Then suddenly a call, the words not audible. The gaze returns. There he stands: Remus Lupin, his wand drawn._

_"Oh, give him a chance, he is a true angel," the voice whispers._

_Scenes upon scenes are overflowing. A flying change. The Whipping Willow, the Hogwarts Express, the Quidditch Field, the tree by the lake; shouts, curses, voices, laughter, swear words, wands, a jerk in the air, a torn cloak, a set leg. "GIVE HIM A CHANCE! GIVE HIM A CHANCE", the voice whispers ever louder, ever more grotesque, echoing a thousand times like an echo: A chance, a chance, a chance!_

"No, no, NO!", gasped Severus and felt cold tears running down his face in his half-sleep. His own wheezing woke him more and more. Drunk asleep he pulled himself up, drove around in bed, half lying, half sitting. Searching for Dumbledore's form in the darkness of the corners of his room. Seeking him to shout at him, "See what he is doing to me? Damn it, can't you see?!" But Albus was not there. Not here, not there, not anywhere. Nothing but black emptiness. Moaning, Severus slid back, pressed his face against the hard pillow and his body against the cold mattress. Everything hurt him, so hurt. The bed was a cot and the loneliness weighed on him like a wet sheet. Shivering with cold, Severus wrapped the thin blanket around his knees, while the October chill silently seeped through the masonry. And only from afar a soft voice whispered: _"Can I offer you something. A glass of water or a tea perhaps?_


	9. Full moon night

The next morning, Severus could not remember anything at first.A dull, heavy numbness had seized him as the old-fashioned alarm clock slipped away from his groping hands and hit the dungeon floor with a clatter. Silence. Dark grey twilight.A little sunshine fell through the only small window niche. Too little to light up the room. In last night's pictures, there was a veil of forgetfulness. Severus rubbed his forehead, his aching temples. Lupin, the lice-ridden werewolf, had been with him, he remembered that. And Dumbledore. What was it about? Something about 'forgetting the past' and 'giving it a chance'. Severus was only getting fragments together. But it didn't matter. It was just another goddamn day in his goddamn life and the memory would return soon enough. Listlessly he pushed the blanket aside and rolled out of bed. Like hours before, the tiles pressed hard against the soles of his feet and the cold gave him goose bumps for a moment as he got rid of his nightgown. He got dressed without even looking into the cracked mirror, which hung in the niche with the wash bowl, covered with cobwebs.

Darkness surrounded Severus as he stepped out into the hall. The bedroom was the only room in his dungeon apartment that let in a little daylight. Like every morning, he walked through the darkness without a single spark of light and headed for the passage to the office. But in front of the laboratory, which he had not locked yesterday, he suddenly stopped. The air was still filled with the magic potion ingredients - ginger, lovage, rue essence - which mixed with the bitter sooty smell of the extinguished torches and tickled his nose. Wistfulness suddenly rose in him. It was so quiet!

Sometimes, rather rarely in the morning, it happened that the self-seeking loneliness of his dungeons became an oppressive burden for him. Such a moment had come. The scent of the asphodel blossoms, which he had removed from his roots yesterday and which still lay on a shelf near the fireplace, misted him heavily. The memory overwhelmed him with unexpected intensity.

_"Can you pass me the grater, Sev?" she whispered, a gentle smile on her lips, "Slughorn is already looking over here. I think he noticed that we forgot a few things. And I haven't rubbed my tuber yet."_

As he thought back, his heart beat as fiercely as that of his fourteen-year-old self, then as her fingers gently brushed against his, muzzled by the scent of asphodel. But today it was no longer the unclouded drumming of that early love that could still revel in the hope of catching a kind word, a tender touch, maybe even a kiss, if Cupid still knew mercy. The memory was permeated with the bitter taste of betrayal. She was not here! Nor anywhere else in the world. The sweet lips; the green glow of the eyes; the fragrant hair in which he wanted to bury his face, they were nothing more than ghostly mist. Only their bones rotted in the belly of the earth and their blood dripped from his hands.

Gasping for breath, Severus slammed the door to the laboratory before the memory could take his breath away. A little later, he was able to control himself again and continued on his way, which soon led him out into the hectic pace of Hogwarts and a new day began in which untalented students robbed him of his last nerve. But the longing for Lily followed him like a shadow.

The day passed and as expected, the memory returned. When the previous evening was once again before Severus' eyes in full clarity, he had lost all desire to run into Lupin, not even to consider him with a snide look or sneering derision. Ridiculous, this outfit, this farce of remorse! Oh yes, the fine colleague had such a bad conscience, he was so sorry for the past. But not a word about the little interlude with Longbottom. Why, if not because it proved him a liar? What did the werewolf want to achieve with his performance? Severus couldn't figure it out. Unless Lupin was even dumber than he thought and thought he would actually buy this act from him. Anyway, it didn't matter.He didn't care about Remus Lupin. And Dumbledore with his good-humored chatter could be stolen from him as well. Should the principal be lulled by Lupin's lies over a cup of tea. What did he care? Albus always believed only those who were on Potter's side and never him.

With a touch of bitterness Severus returned to his apartment in the evening. He tried to drown the feeling in equanimity and rage, but could not entirely deny that Dumbledore's behavior hurt him. Why did Albus not stand by him? Why did he not want to see that the new colleague was not a sheep in wolf's clothing? That he and his nice friends had inflicted wounds deeper than a wolf's teeth could? Always this belief in the good in people. It was disgusting!

Silently Severus closed the door behind him and was alone. He spent the remaining hours of the day in his laboratory above the boiler and so the week passed between wormwood and wolfsbane, between water, steam and the quiet bubbling of the potions.

It was again infinitely quiet in the dungeon when he heated the fire under a copper cauldron on the last evening after bringing Lupin his medicine and put on a cheap Pepper Up Potion. When the brew had reached its glowing red color, Severus filtered it and carried the finished potion over to the rack. There a piece of coal was waiting in a wooden bowl, at least that's what it looked like at first sight. In reality, however, it was a very dark bezoar - sooty, as if gone through a magic fire. Severus took a pair of pliers and picked up the stone. His fingers were tingling with excitement as he carefully lifted it over the still hot potion. What would await him? What reaction would it lead to? Would everything have gone according to plan? One breath and Severus let go. In the cauldron it flashed and sparked. But that was not a bad sign in this case. No, it was exactly what he had hoped for. When the effect faded and nothing moved, he lifted the stone out again with a ladle and frowned. What had once been a bezoar was now a grayish shimmering mass. Greyish, not white. Severus looked at the stone skeptically, but put it into the water carafe that stood next to the cauldron. He had to know exactly! For a moment, the water seemed to take on a reddish hue, very delicate and a slight peppery odor emanated from it. But then the pink glow dried up and the carafe smelled of clear spring water again. Severus, gnashing his teeth, removed the stone from the water with an Accio and let the rest disappear with an Evanesco. Then he carelessly threw the gray lump into the box in which the old diary with the children's handwriting was already lying and slammed its lid shut. Another failed attempt! Another waste of valuable potion ingredients! And that, where the Merlin Academy was expecting results at the end of the month. If they would grant him another six months' delay? Severus did not know. All he knew was that he couldn't avoid writing to the Dean of the Potions Faculty and hoping for a second chance.

_'Everyone deserves to make up for an old mistake. Give him a chance,'_ Dumbledore's words sounded in his ears again, and he couldn't say why he remembered them now. Perhaps it was because he had just caught sight of the Wolfroot Elixir, which he had strained hours ago through three silver sieves with different pores, mixed with moonstone powder, as he had done in each of those nights. Full moon nights. Severus hated them and not only since this school year. Tired, he extinguished the light. It was already after one o'clock and he went on his way to bed. The laboratory, the hallway, the small living room that Severus had crammed with bookshelves, the bathroom - they lay there quietly and silently as if they had no part in his failure or anything else that moved him. His thoughts had long since begun to circle around the events of the past days. To be misunderstood by one of the few people he still had left was deeply offensive to him. The world had conspired against him and he was alone.

With this oppressive feeling he sank down onto his pillow with a heavy stone and felt a familiar hardness at the back of his head. But it was not the flattened down that had survived its time that bumped against his hair. For a moment Severus took a breath, closed his eyes, then he picked himself up again, lit the oil lamp on his bedside table and pulled it out: the small, wormy box with the flower ornaments. With his heart pounding and the taste of wormwood on his tongue, he lifted the lid and tipped the contents into his hand. Softly it snuggled around his fingers, shimmering in the warm light, unscathed even after so many years, the red strand. Only half consciously Severus felt his eyes wetting themselves and through the cloudy veil the memory rose from the mist of the past.

_"Sev, Sev, you were right! Guess what? I got the letter. From Hogwarts. Tunia couldn't believe it really existed," she shouted laughing and rushed past the climbing frame towards him. Then, when she reached him, her face suddenly darkened. "But I don't know if my parents will let me go there. They think it's a late April Fool's joke and I don't know what they'll do with the man who wants to come tonight," she explained sadly and looked down. A moment of silence. Then she looked up again. Her green eyes glowed softly and a mysterious smile flitted across her lips. "But I brought you something. Here", the box changed hands, "So that you always think of me at Hogwarts and never forget to write to me, Sev"._

Always thinking of me, the words echoed in Severus and he felt something moist running down his cheek. Never, never had he broken this promise. Not for over twenty years. Almost unnoticed, the strand slid back into the box and absent-mindedly he closed it. Child hair, given in a better, an innocent time. He hated full moon nights! He hated his guilt. Albus' words still sounded in his ears. Severus did not hate him, could not. For deep inside he knew that he too was only one who had been given a second chance; that without Dumbledore's help he would have rotted in Azkaban long ago. And yet loneliness pressed him. The thought that Albus had allied himself with one of his worst enemies burned like an open wound. He longed so much for a little warmth and could find nothing but cold. Exhausted, Severus turned out the light and closed his eyes. It was not to last long...

_The pumpkin spirits fleece their flaming teeth to a sneering grin. Murderous smell of rubble and blood is in the air. Severus cannot breathe. The lungs want to burst. Just run, run, run. There, the collapsed house, blood shooting into the head, cold sweat of fear on the back. Horror, an inkling. No time. He must go on. Through the rubble, through the door. To her, save her! The stairwell is buried under dust. In between, suddenly Potter's body. Away! Away with it and on. Panic whips up the heartbeat. When he's dead, she's... just not thinking about it. The door, the bedroom, open. The heart beats up to the neck, now... silence. The world stops spinning. No breath, no being. Rigor of shock, unreal images. The red hair spread over the floor like spider threads. Her face pale, no features. Green eyes extinguished. Lily is dead. And behind the hole in the wall, the full moon laughs bitterly!_

Bathed in sweat, Severus opened his eyes and gasped for air. His gaze fell into emptiness, while his pulse slowly lowered again and the numb limbs came to. A nightmare. A nightmare as real as the dungeon. Damn full moon night! For a moment Severus squeezed his eyelids shut, took a deep breath and tried to scare the thoughts away. Then he threw the blanket aside and sat up. Useless the attempt to lie down. It was impossible for him to find sleep now. Severus already knew the game too well. Up to twelve times a year the ghosts of Godric' Hollow haunted him in this way. Two months ago, during the summer vacations, he would now have simply uncorked a bottle of Potion of Peace and waited a few minutes until the effects began. But his supplies were exhausted. His studies and the Wolfsbane Potion had prevented him from brewing and the bedside drawer was full of spiders and flies. Still dreamy, Severus stood up and thought about what else would bring him back to the state of necessary bed weight. Occlumency, which he had learned under Voldemort, was ruled out. It required concentration and was thus detrimental to sleep. His small library room came to his mind. Perhaps a good book would be a distraction. Without hesitation Severus sneaked through the hallway into the coop and lit the kerosene lamp on the small side table. The shelves that lined up on the walls of the narrow room overflowed and threatened to bury the two old leather armchairs underneath them. A restrained smile came over Severus' lips as he looked at the stack of books on the floor next to it. Books whose backs were emblazoned with the school emblem. A small loan from Hogwarts' Forbidden Section. If Lupin tried again to consult some reading from the school library for his lessons in the upper school, he would have a small problem. After Madame Pince had been a little too talkative in her anger at seventh-graders who carelessly messed up the Forbidden Section, and had told him about his colleague's small handset, he had made use of his loan right for an indefinite period of time.

But the encyclopedias and textbooks about the finesses of black magic did not interest him. First he tried to dispel himself with a thin volume of poetry by Judith Harper Loneshift, one of his favorite authors. But the melancholy, dark poems only fueled his inner torments even more. When even dust-dry reading of a tome on the right of magic, an heirloom of his mother, did not bring the desired distraction, Severus decided to stop reading. Perhaps there was still a medicine that could bring him back to sleep before the repaired clock would start making a hell of a noise.

Hastily, Severus tore his travel cape off the hook, covered all doors with threshold bans and hurried up the steep spiral staircase to the portal. Wind swept through his hair and the night in early October welcomed him with a cool, earthy breeze. Deeply he absorbed the scent that announced the harsh climate of autumn. The world was wrapped in silence. Not a soul wandered through the otherwise overflowing castle grounds. Like silhouettes, the trees rose up in front of the strangely bright night sky and the lake resembled a black mirror in which the moonlight broke. Severus lowered his gaze to remove his eyes from the traces of the night star. He took a deep breath and felt how the vastness of nature slowly loosened the bonds around his chest. With the tangled strands of black hair swirling around his head and the rustling of leaves under his feet, he set off for a walk around the lake.

He was on the road for about half an hour until he had finally come to a complete rest. With heavy, dull limbs, he dared for the first time since he had left the stairs behind him to lift his gaze up to the sky again. The moon seemed to hover directly above the lake, like a landmark that divided the world on his side from the castle in the distance, and its pale light danced across the water. As the glitter faded before Severus' tired eyes, a few of his thoughts returned like dark fog, but far from as pressing and threatening as the nightmare. It was only a light touch, a breath of loneliness, of being cut off from the world. Who else but him, Severus asked himself, was still beating around the ears with gloomy thoughts on that full moon night? Who could not yet look into the mirror because he saw a monster in it? Who was so much at odds with a dark secret as he was? If there was an answer, if he was not alone, the cursed heavens should send him a sign.

It was just a thought experiment. But the sign came. Quick and surprising. Just as Severus turned away from the lake and turned his gaze fixed on the castle, he saw it. In one of the windows there was still a light burning. Behind the panes he thought he could see a shadow: The shadow of a wolf.


	10. Remus' remorse

The wind rushed in the trees, tore at the branches and swept through the fallen leaves as if in play. Remus stood in a shower of leaves. Red, yellow, brown, orange - the whole colorfulness of October whirled around him. He took a deep breath, let the morning freshness clear his mind. Gradually he seemed to recover from the strains of the previous night. The tiredness, the feeling of exhaustion fell away from him and he regained his strength. Only an hour ago he had been lying on the couch of his bedroom, convulsing in convulsions. The last effects of a horrible night. The Wolfsbane Potion could not free him from the agony of transformation, the pain and numbness afterwards. And yet Remus was glad that there was a medicine for him, which released him from the very worst: the loss of his mind and the unleashing of a power capable of atrocities he could not forgive himself for his lifetime.

The morning sun rose with a golden shimmer over the lake and Remus had just reached the old oak tree on the shore when the church bell struck half past eight down in Hogsmeade. He glanced over the sparkling water for a moment, then turned around and came back frozen, but strengthened from his morning walk to the schoolhouse. He had twenty minutes left before his lesson would begin, and the last students rushed from the stairs to breakfast in the Great Hall. Remus, who had already eaten, quickly decided to have a cup of tea in the teachers' room before the seriousness of life had him back. The wood-panelled room was empty when he entered and his colleagues had left him nothing but a battered tin cup. Silently he stepped to the kitchen counter. Only lukewarm', the pot muttered and Remus felt no heat rising in the metal when he poured the drink.

Suddenly he missed the cup of Wolfsbane Potion, which had been in his place every morning for the last few days and would certainly have heated him up properly now. With his thoughts the memories of Severus Snape fleetingly returned. They had not changed a word after the failed attempt of a conciliatory conversation during the past week. The principal had promised to talk to the Potions Master again. But even Albus Dumbledore could not expect miracles. Remus looked at the wood paneling while he drank. Actually, he should never have let the principal in on this. His feelings after the surprise expulsion had simply overwhelmed him. What was the reason for Severus' strange reaction? Remus couldn't figure it out. But whatever was behind this, he had realized one thing: His plan had been a folly. Could a few words of apology erase what years of hostility had done? No, certainly not!

Remus placed the cup in the sink and took the document folder out of its compartment. While the sorting spell made the seventh grade homework parchments flutter, he wondered what he himself thought of all this. A part of him wished he could be fully grateful to his colleague for the monthly medicine. But it was impossible for him to close his eyes to the disaster that Severus Snape was sowing. A realization that evoked more regret than anger, since he knew about the past of his colleague. Remus watched intently as the heap of leaves before him turned over. In this contradictory melange of feelings, there was only one clarity: He wanted to make peace with Severus. If not for his own sake, then to settle an old score, the payment of which his conscience had long demanded. The wounds of a morality that had been hurt in the past had to be bandaged. For justice it did not matter to which person Severus had developed into. To hang a defenseless man half-naked under a tree remained an atrocity, no matter if the victim was an angel or a devil. And finally, Remus closed his eyes for a moment, finally he longed for peace. He was used to being ridiculed and rejected. His kind was also reviled in other places. And yet this feud robbed him of all nerves, the words burned under his skin. Somehow he had to convince Severus of his sincerity. He still had no idea how, but an opportunity would be found.

The school bell rang, Remus grabbed his documents and hurried out into the hall. Outside the windows, the autumn leaves were constantly falling and with them their paper relatives from the calendar next to the blackboard...

A few splashes of foam water sprinkled the black 12 as the Scourgify wiped the blackboard. With a wave of his wand, Remus put the chairs back in place and set up the gramophone. It was Tuesday, the short break between the first and second hour after lunch, and he was expecting a second class, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw.On his curriculum for the next two weeks was the subject of arklung and since he had only briefly cut the material on Friday, he wanted to show the students some recordings of the animals' peculiar laughter. But when he unlocked the classroom door, he didn't even need to turn on the gramophone to fill the room with shrill noise. An agitated mob entered through the two double doors. Loudly buzzing, excitedly whispering, noisy, rumbling like a flock of startled geese.

Remus watched and listened to the spectacle with wrinkled foreheads and highly alarmed. It was not the usual two or three groups who were not satisfied with the break to exchange ideas and who were still whispering after classes had started. The entire class seemed to be engrossed in a single argument, except for one or two runaways perhaps. And they paid no attention to him whatsoever, even when they had taken their seats. Angry, hasty words flew back and forth.

_"This is unfair, just unfair"_

_"There's nothing you can do!"_

_"I hear he's never like this to his house!"_

_"I'll write to my parents!"_

At first, Remus tried to greet the class as usual. But his words sank like a drop in the ocean. It didn't help - he had to bring out the big guns! The next moment he had already pulled out his wand and pointed it at his throat. "Sonorus," he murmured and then raised his voice again.

"SILENCE!"

Silence. The class had paused instantly and stared at him with eyes wide open, terrified. All except for a blonde Ravenclaw girl who, with a dreamy look, let a few puffapod flowers float around her head - obviously enchanted by a Wingardium Leviosa. Remus knew the student, she was a little bit, well, _special_. Then, after a few seconds of silence, here and there students lowered their eyes in shame and Remus raised his wand again, first closing the door and then freeing his throat from the spell.

"It's nice that you're all here," he greeted the class with a smile and now again at room volume, "But it would be even nicer if you would give me your attention.

He took a look around the class, into the silent, concerned faces.

"What's the matter with you? I have never seen you so restless," he said calmly.

It was the truth. A few students were always disturbing. But the whole class so out of control? That was new!

A moment of silence passed, then a boy from Hufflepuff stirred.

"It, it's because of Professor Snape, sir," he stammered cautiously.

"Professor Snape?", Remus repeated, pricked up his ears. The name had always made him prick up his ears in the last weeks.

"Yes, we just had potions together," explained a Rawenclaw boy, and Remus put two and two together.

"And you got into trouble," he concluded, "For what?

It was probably thanks to his good class leadership that the children didn't mince matters.

"He missed Teena and Merlisande two hours of detention just because they came into the classroom when the others were already sitting," reported one girl here.

"And he gave us a punishment paper because we had put too much heel on our homework," said a boy.

"Ten points deducted because we didn't know everything from the book-"

"- and because Luna hummed off the blackboard while transcribing".

Remus put his finger to his mouth and thought. These were disturbances, as they occurred every hour; trivialities, in which he first left it at admonitions and only after repeated offences resort to mild point deductions. But he could imagine that Severus, in his easily irritable manner, handled the matter more strictly, perhaps excessively strictly.

"These are high penalties. I understand that you are upset. Professor Snape seems to have been a bit too harsh with you," he finally stated.

For a moment the silence in the classroom continued. Then, suddenly, another commotion broke out. Complaints about how unjust Professor Snape was sounded and events long past were rehashed. Remus was once again a silent witness and looked thoughtfully at his students. Was this perhaps the chance he had been waiting for? He could certainly make a difference here. But was he really allowed to interfere so deeply in the affairs of a colleague? On the other hand: to whose harm should it be? Finally he came to his senses.

Without drawing the wand, he raised his hand to command the class to remain silent. Gradually things became quiet again.

"I said that Professor Snape's punishments were perhaps a little too severe," he remarked as he returned to the focus of attention, "I didn't say that it was generally wrong to impose punishments on you or to deduct house points. If students disrupt class or fail to complete their assignments, it is a teacher's duty to restore order.

Aghast looks. Some stared at Remus as if they could not believe that the teacher they all trusted was now stabbing them in the back. But Remus did not let this upset him.

"Which of you hasn't read the chapter in the potion book or just skimmed over it," he asked in a raised voice.

No movement.

"I am not Professor Snape," he mildly added, "Since it is not about my class, you have nothing to fear. So?"

A few reluctant fingers rose here and there. When Remus didn't rebuke the students in question, others joined in bit by bit until about ten hands pointed in the air.

"Good," Remus remarked, adding without pause for breath: "And who was late for class?"

The hands sank and two other students joined in.

"But, but only because Teena forgot her pen in the Great Hall," one of the girls reeled. Remus didn't go any further with her.

"Who was cheating a little on their homework?" he continued.

Again some fingers shot up.

"Who was still chatting to his bank neighbors at the beginning of the class?"

Two hands remained raised, the rest were replaced by others and one was added.

"And who was reading, scribbling, dreaming, or not always listening to Professor Snape's instructions during the lesson?"

Now almost the whole class answered.And the few who didn't, just made themselves guilty of the sins discussed. Remus nodded as a sign that he had seen all the reports. When the hands went down again, the fear of the consequences of this revelation was clearly written on some faces. But Remus did not have to deduct house points or impose punishments in front of the class for misconduct that did not concern his class. Instead, he turned away and stepped to the blackboard.

"Actually, I had planned to perform the laughter of Erklings for you today," he explained to the class as he led the chalk across the slate, "But I think we can use this for a completely different lesson.

With these words Remus put the chalk away, knocked the dust off his hands and stepped aside. A few students raised their eyebrows. Others stared alternately at the blackboard and at him, and still others looked dull and bewildered.

On the blackboard were the words "Murtlap and Dwarfmoke". It was a student from Ravenclaw who was the first to answer.

"I don't understand it, Professor," he confessed when he was called, "Murtlaps have nothing to do with Erklings and they are not dangerous as long as you don't step on them.

Remus smiled. "That's right, Mr Hullican. Nevertheless, even we who fight against dark magic can learn something from them. Does anyone have anything to say about the relationship between Murtlap and Dwarfmoke?"

A girl from Hufflepuff came forward. Remus called her.

"Murtlaps eat Dwarfmokes. They chase them or wait for them and wait until they can snap."

"That's right, Miss Jaspers, 5 points for Hufflepuff," replied Remus, leaning against his desk, his eyes fixed on the class, "If we weren't humans in this room, but Dwarfmokes, Murtlaps would be dangerous enemies for us. Opponents who keep a low profile, but keep us constantly in view and wait for the moment when we become inattentive and make a mistake. There is a whole range of magical creatures, malevolent beings out there, for whom witches, wizards and Muggles are nothing but Mokes. Not all of them can be chased away by a small swirl of the wand. Some are very dangerous. They possess a power far beyond that of a single human being."

Remus paused for a moment. Then he went on.

"With teachers and students, it is sometimes very similar. To a student, a teacher is a murtlap-like threat. It is in his hands to give point deductions, detention and punishment. And it is not uncommon for teachers to watch their class with eagle-eyes, registering every little misbehavior like a lurking animal. Mr. Pallow, if you are not feeling well, you can always go to the infirmary."

The class turned around to a boy who was chatting with his neighbor on one of the back benches, holding his hand in front of his mouth as if he was nauseous. Some faces reflected amazement, others could hardly contain a smirking laugh. When Pallow shook his head after a short blush and the class turned back to the blackboard, the last row sank back into the chatter. Remus continued undeterred.

"When we are dealing with such a superiority, far superior to our forces in battle, one thing is decisive".

He stood up again, holding a few key points on the blackboard: NOT OFFER A SURFACE TO ATTACK!

Then he stepped aside to let the words work on the class. The quiet giggling fell silent. Seriousness returned to the faces of the students - at least those who were paying attention.

"Can anyone tell me what this means," Remus asked the class. But not a finger shot up.Only one student whispered something to her bank neighbor: "I think if I had done my homework properly, Snape couldn't have done anything.

"Could you repeat that again out loud, Miss Tribbon? I think your classmates might be interested as well," Remus picked up on the little conversation.

The girl blushed, then cleared her throat. "Well, maybe we really haven't done everything right. I mean, if we had all read the chapter correctly, we could have answered the questions, couldn't we? And Teena could've asked to get her pen instead of just being late."

Remus smiled.

"A very important remark," he appreciated the answer and continued in his remarks, "Dwarfmokes contract like their large relatives in case of danger. Shrunk to the size of an ant and colorfully fused with their surroundings, they are virtually invisible to the eyes of the murtlap. The same applies to school rules for students. Even the strictest teacher will not find a target if a class completely obeys the rules. Until Friday I will give you a little experiment. I expect each of you to behave in an exemplary manner in the coming potion lesson. Be punctual in front of the classroom; read your book very carefully; do your homework extensively and very conscientiously; hang on the lips of your teacher and be quiet as a mouse in class. I am sure that Professor Snape will not give you any point deductions, punishment or detention.And if you do, you have good reason to write to your parents without confessing to them about your misconduct. If the experiment succeeds, I promise you an extra point for your house.

On the back benches some students are still chatting.

"For each of you," Remus added in a raised voice. The last row fell silent and looked up curiously.

"How many rolls of parchment?", a little brown-haired boy panted.

"Oh, no parchment," Remus replied, "We will discuss the result verbally next Friday."

He smiled and returned the looks of the class. "But now it is time to turn our attention to the laughter of the Erklings. Please put away your books and wands and prick up your ears".

And with the good feeling of perhaps heralding a turning point in their history, Remus stepped over to the gramophone, carefully lifted the needle and placed it on the shellac record.


	11. Potions in a different way

Again a new day. Again a bunch of naughty children who caused more harm than a swarm of pests. Again, fermented potions, wasted ingredients and rough chopping of rat spleens that made your hair stand on end. Again chatter, giggling, half-heartedly scribbled parchment rolls and stupid questions instead of paying due respect to the lessons. Severus looked at the sooty stain in the vault that an exploding caldron had left there the day before and felt how the coffee and his breakfast egg fermented into a brew of disgust at this sight. He had only five minutes left to enjoy the peace and quiet of this early Friday morning before a wild horde of second graders would turn his beautiful classroom into a battlefield. Gradually, outside in the hallway there should be chattering and giggling, but still everything was quiet. Should the whole class be late today? Well, even better! As if it weren't enough that two students in the last lesson thought the class would start when they felt like it!

Like almost every day, Severus hoped to get the time over quickly. If his job at Hogwarts would consist only of brewing potions, he would like his job much better.Dealing with the naughtiness of pubescent boys and girls was a side of the teaching profession he hated.

When the hourglass showed him no mercy, Severus stepped with growing anger to the classroom door, tore it open and paused. He had almost expected to find an empty hallway. In fact, the opposite was true. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, the whole half of the second year class had gathered outside the door and yet there was a funeral silence in the corridor. Severus looked at the students in bewilderment, who seemed to tremble a little under his eyes, but still did not make a sound. In the next moment he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Something was not right here after all!

"What's wrong with you? Has someone put a silencio on you," he whispered into the round.

"No, sir," said a tall, lanky boy. It was Stephen Frydon, otherwise the biggest chatterbox in the class, who now couldn't utter another word. Severus gave him a sharp, penetrating look, then stepped aside. With a nod of his head he gave the class the signal to enter, not without swearing to keep a close eye on them today. Those who remained silent usually plotted something!

But the first minutes went surprisingly peacefully. Just as quietly as in the hallway, the girls and boys took their seats and when Severus instructed them to take their book, the tomes landed almost synchronously on the tables.

"As you probably don't know, since I don't assume that even one of you has read this year's subject schedule, you will learn about the brewing process of a swelling solution before the end of this winter," Severus explained and built himself up in front of the class. Twenty-six pairs of eyes followed his speech curiously and deeply spellbound. Not one student whispered with his neighbor, scribbled something on parchment or secretly read a magazine under the bench. Even Miss Lovegood, the strangest and in her own way most frightening student in the class, looked over at him, albeit with a glassy dreamy look. The goose bumps on Severus' neck turned into a cold shiver. What in Merlin's name was the class up to? Why did they target him like that? A slightly queasy feeling came over him. Nonetheless, Severus continued, hiding his suspicions. 

"Since, unfortunately, there have been a number of serious accidents during this unit in recent years and my private supplies are limited, this year you will first learn to brew the antidote, the Deflating Draught. For your own benefit, I advise you to take the greatest care in the production process, because you will have to use your own brew if anyone should find it funny to blow up their cauldron this year as well".Severus smiled softly and angrily, but the class did not budge. Nothing but stoic calm as far as the eye could see. An almost eerie sight, statue-like. Then Severus cleared his throat briefly and picked up the thread again.

"Can anyone tell me the ingredients of a deflating draught?"

Suddenly the picture changed. With the power of an ocean, a wave went through the classroom and twenty-one fingers shot up. Surprised, Severus opened his eyes. When in his life as a teacher had he ever seen so many students come forward at once? After he had regained his composure, he decided to take on a girl who had never before brought herself into his classes. Let's see if the little trick was now revealed.

"Miss Jason!"

"Seven stalks of river grass, an ounce of daisies, half a rat's spleen, a plagentine tuber, two dozen eel eyes and thirteen drops of Bubotubler pus, Professor," it came like shooting out of a wand.

"That is correct," confirmed Severus and frowned. If all this was to amount to a bad joke, the class made every effort to hide it. There was not the slightest hint of lurking, of evil cunning reflected in anyone's face. 

"And who can tell me how to treat the materials?" Among all those who responded, the first one who caught his eye was a boy from Hufflepuff. 

"Mr. Odgen!"

"The river grass stalks are finely chopped, sir, the daisies are crushed in a mortar, the rat's spleen is diced, the plagentine tuber is grated, the eel eyes are incised crosswise and soaked in lavender essence, and the Bubotubler pus is carefully drizzled into the brew."

"That is also correct," Severus had to admit and looked at the class critically for a moment, "Have you all already read the potion book?" A unanimous nod. Then silence. Broodingly, Severus put a finger to his lips. A spark of skepticism still remained, but it was already beginning to fade. What if all this was no prank at all? What if the class didn't concoct anything, but actually, what seemed unbelievable, just worked well together?

"Fine," Severus rised to speak again. In the classroom you could still hear a pin drop and everything hung on his lips, "Mr. Husher, write the recipe on the blackboard". The student jumped up immediately.

"The others open page 67 in the book. Today we will begin preparing the lavender essence and the eel eyes. Read the chapter carefully. You have ten minutes. Meanwhile, I will collect your homework."

Without a sound, the students immersed themselves in their reading and only the squeaking of the chalk on the blackboard broke the silence.

When Severus flew over twenty-six double parchment scrolls at the end of the lesson and saw twenty-six tightly written lines and accurate drawings, there was no longer any doubt: there was no trick, no rascal's play behind the silence of the class. The students had, almost to his regret, simply behaved impeccably. Even in the procedure of preparing the eel eyes, none of them had made any of the usual faux pas - no, everyone had done their work with the utmost concentration. And all in all, this worried Severus more than if a filibuster banger had gone off somewhere or a stink bomb had been detonated. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw might have been a little more well-behaved than their classmates from Gryffindor, but God knows they were not angels either. So why this sudden change of heart?

He put the parchments aside and looked up, just in time to see the last two students, a boy and a girl, disappear into the corridor. The two Ravenclaws had put their heads together. Their muttering broke out in the vault and on the barren dungeon walls, and Severus would have bet his cauldron that it was about the previous hour. Suspicious, he crept after the students, hoping to find the key to this mystery. Fortunately they did not notice that their potions teacher followed them and when Severus reached the threshold, he heard their voices clearly.

"Professor Lupin was right," said the girl, "He didn't even deduct house points today. I thought he would anyway. ...but he didn't."

"Yes," the boy thoughtfully agreed with her, and her steps receded on the stairs. 

Severus felt himself getting hot and cold at the same time. With a sudden movement he turned on his heel and closed the door behind him. So the werewolf was behind this. He had arranged everything! Why? To show him who was the better teacher? To make him a joke again?! Severus gritted his teeth while he put away the homework parchments. For a second he didn't know whether to take his dear colleague for an angel or a cunning devil...


	12. Between wolf and lamb

The sighing faded away between the roar of the storm, which tore at the shutters and covered the panes of the arched windows with a curtain of rain currents. Fire was shining in the fireplace, distributing not only the heat but also the acrid smell of charred logs in the room. The flames were reflected in the wood panelling. But there was something else smouldering in the air: the question. Five letters only, but the meaning as heavy as lead. The question why.

Lupin did not answer. With the teacup in his hand he sat down on his chair, which creaked softly. The glow of the fire surrounded his face, hiding every wrinkle, every sign of a thought in shadows. Severus, becoming impatient, the words were already on the tongue again like an arrow in a bow. Still the confession of his colleague sounded in his ears; the confession of having instilled good behavior in the class. Severus almost shot the arrow. But at that moment Lupin's lips moved.

"I thought it would be in your favor too," he explained, looking down into his steaming cup, "fewer hours wasted on detention, less correction of punitive work...".

"And that is reason enough to interfere in my affairs?!", Severus replied. His voice was drenched with subliminal anger, but it was no longer the exuberant rage with which he would have interrogated his hated colleague at other times. Just a bubbling underground. Lupin looked up. His eyes were transfigured with a touch of melancholy.

"I didn't mean to offend you," he replied calmly, grabbed the sugar bowl on the table and sweetened his tea, "The class was very excited last Tuesday. They told me what had happened the hour before and could hardly be calmed down. I had to intervene."

Severus did not move, just watched silently as his colleague stirred with a spoon in his cup and waited. For what actually? An apology? Further explanations? Or that the fog of his thoughts would lift?

"If I've gone too far with this, I'm sorry," Lupin explained between two sips of tea, "If it's not what you want, I won't go into such situations in the future.

Severus looked up, straight into the face of his counterpart, then at the cuckoo clock. Twenty past ten, in the evening.

"It is late," he replied coldly, "and I still have something to do. We should finish our conversation. Good evening."

He turned to face the door. No sooner had he measured the teachers' room than a voice called him back.

"Severus...?"

The unspoken question stood like an invisible barrier on the threshold, blocking his exit. Severus did not know what to answer. The unruly words did not find their way to his lips. But it seemed to him that Lupin - Lupin who did not master legimency - read in his rippled forehead, his half-open mouth, his narrowed eyes like in an open book. A slight nod at the table, a soft groan at the door and Severus had slipped into the torchlit corridors.

The palace walls surrounded him with repellent cold. Almost like a last greeting from Lupin. No, he thought in the next moment, it was not appropriate to twist things. Not his colleague had given him the cold shoulder, but he had given it to him. One week had passed since Lupin's Samaritan deed and still it appeared to Severus in confusing twilight. After the first rage had died down and Dumbledore had forced him to take a walk during the lunch break, thoughts had crept into his head that he was reluctant to admit. It could not be denied: without potions that fermented into dangerous pops, without the constant murmuring on the back benches and slamming doors by students who came too late, the lessons in the second grade had been quite pleasant. Of course, he would never admit this feeling, which bit into his hatred and pride, to Lupin. But because it also prevented him from jumping at the throat of his dear colleague, Severus had avoided him for a week in quiet resentment - until today. An open door may tempt a saint,' it was said, and so Lupin had used the chance meeting in the teachers' room to confront him. And he himself? He had thrown the question at him, which had been burning on his tongue for a week. What had he hoped to get out of it? He did not know. Still gratitude and anger balanced each other out and made one bowl start to sink or rise, and the other followed suit.

With a slight dull feeling Severus had reached the door at the spiral staircase and unlocked it. Inside his office it was pitch-black. There was never a fire burning down here to light up the darkness. With a wave of his wand, he lit the petroleum sparkle on his desk. Then he sealed the door, threw the leather folder he had brought from the teachers' room on the desk, and began correcting the second grade homework. Today, the parchment sheets had not been written on so closely for a long time, and in the morning two students had managed to boil away their Deflating Draught to a yellowish, viscous and urine-smelling mass. Lupin's work was not meant to last for eternity. Built on the foundation of the insolence to brazenly interfere with his teaching and yet a temporary oasis of calm.

Thoughtfully, Severus put the parchment rolls aside and observed for a while how a fly circled around the light of the lamp. Couldn't the werewolf have at least performed the same action as with Longbotton's boggart? It would have been much easier! So, however, his anger smoked to an ash cloud from which he could only blow hot air into his colleague's face. Once again, he was faced with a truth that thwarted all his plans. Lupin had meant well.As much as Severus wanted to curse him for all the painful school years; as much as he was offended that the dear Mister colleague was teaching the students over his heads, God knows what, so little could he deny this fact, no matter how desperately he twisted it in circles. 

With Merlin: intelligence was sometimes a terrible obstacle! Couldn't he be struck with the blindness of an olm and see only what he wanted to see? It didn't work like that after all! How could one maintain a proper enmity when the other person vehemently refused to do so? Hate wanted to be well-cared for and kept alive by small gestures of contempt. Nothing was more deadly for such a relationship than when one refused to take up the gauntlet. The cause needed reciprocity and Lupin apparently did not believe in maintaining relationships.

Somewhere in the distance of his memories, Dumbledore muttered good-humoring words while the fly, weary of life, plunged into the flame of the oil light. And Severus felt a headache spreading in his temple. Something gnawed at him, biting through to the surface in spite of his bitter struggle. And the gnawing did not let up. Hours, days, soon a whole week...

When he prepared another cauldron of Wolfsbane Potion and drizzled the lemon juice into it half-absent, Severus finally gave up. All the attempts to blind himself could not keep the last glimmer of knowledge from his eyes.Nothing helped. He had to investigate, had to x-ray Lupin; find some outrage of the werewolf to drive Dumbledore out of his mind and rekindle the old hatred. In the last week of October, Severus began to observe his colleague closely, with a critical eye indeed and from a safe distance, but with open eyes and ears if they happened to cross paths. Where he used to listen away, he now became sensitive when his colleagues talked about him. He soaked up every bit of information like a sponge instead of making his judgement as before. And to his astonishment and annoyance he did not find a single bad word. But the gnawing continued to demand food, be it sugar to nourish it or poison to kill it off. When October was dying and Severus brought the Wolfsbane Potion up to the office of the Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher on the penultimate day of its life, it had bitten his way so far that he was almost willing to listen to Lupin himself, he could he only bite the bullet. Just to find out what was going on inside the werewolf, of course.

But then something happened. Something that made the gnawing stop all at once and dried up all his food; that exposed the innocence of his colleague as a double-cross; that tore the mask that two lamblike hands tried to put on Severus from his eyes, so that he recognized the wolf in sheep's clothing and the hatred finally broke from the chain. And this something happened in the middle of the night of Halloween.


	13. Black Day

"Professor Dumbledore is on his way. He will be here shortly. Please be seated."

The voice of the deputy principal was almost drowned in the excited confusion of the assembled faculty. The wood-panelled room was filled to overflowing and the ominous haze of the past misfortune hung over everything. The room was stuffy, cramped and hot. A kaleidoscope of emotions was visible in the faces all around. Fear, surprise, dismay, anger. Some, like Professor Trelawney, were already wearing their nightgowns and looked around in confusion. Others were still dressed in their good clothes from the party and were bobbing nervously from one foot to the other. Voices flirted across the room.

"He broke in here? Into the castle?!"

"And with all the dementors?! The Ministry of Magic is no longer reliable!"

An energetic shake of the head, a frightened hand slapped in front of the mouth. A nervous look at the door. Chaos!

Remus closed his eyes, felt the hard wood of the chair beneath him and breathed out all the impressions clumsily before he opened his eyelids again. The thoughts wafting through his head resembled thick fog. Only slowly did he find his way through it, observing almost apathetically how shapes and shadows peeled themselves out of the haze, time-delayed and unreal. The outside world, the hustle and bustle in the teachers' room, slipped past his consciousness. Colors of robes, dresses, nightgowns flashed briefly and sank again into the sea of unity. Voices, words, were they loud or soft, fluttered by like moths. Only one sentence, a single one, penetrated him and cut into his mind like a knife: He had been here! Sirius, at Hogwarts! Lost in thought, Remus scribbled something in his notebook as if he could use it to reconcile the contradictory feelings within himself. What he felt found no words. Was it fear? Fear for Harry? Surprise? Was there a spark of hope to see his old friend again? A reason for a guilty conscience? A longing for answers? Remus knew nothing. He took nothing but the cold sweat that slowly ran down his back. Body reactions were the only real thing in this forest of thoughts. How had Sirius even gotten into the castle?

This question seemed to be asked by others as well. For the first time in a seemingly endless while, Remus perceived his environment again. Everywhere in the room murmured speculations were exchanged. Some assumed a port key, others assumed a defective threshold ban. The tension of the gathered people was clearly noticeable. Minerva McGonagall, who had set herself up near the door, first took a nervous look around the room, then at the clock. Her hair, which was otherwise pinned up to form a strict bun, sat as a loose knot on the back of her head, and single strands swirled around her ears. Splashes of mud soiled the lenses of her glasses, obscured the eyes in the rugged, exhausted face of a woman who had combed the castle grounds for hours by night and in all weathers - in cat form. Remus twitched briefly and lowered his eyes. With clenched chest he felt goose bumps running down his arms. Dark, quiet and blurred, not for the first time that night, a vision crept up on him: the ghostly, nebulous figure of an animal panting towards the great portal. Silently, Professor Vektor, with which he had searched the goblet room and some classrooms, took a seat next to him and let an eerie breeze pass over him through the movement.

At that moment the door to the teachers' room was opened and in a cool, invigorating breeze Albus Dumbledore entered. The conversation fell silent. All eyes were fixed on the principal. On his heels followed like a shadow Severus Snape. Almost silently, the Potions Master closed the door behind him and looked around the room critically. When his eyes found Remus, his black eyes darkened and his pale face raged until the bushy brows almost touched. Not that as well, Remus thought, and felt invisible needle points boring into his skin. It was the same expression that the Potions Master had already used at the opening ceremony at the beginning of the school year. A facial expression full of disgust and hate like Remus had not seen from his colleague for a long time. With the memory of his vision he could guess what might have brought about this new change. But he had no time to think about it. His eyes wandered to Albus Dumbledore, who had now taken McGonagall's place and placed some documents in front of him. Worry was written on his face as he moistened his lips.

"I thank you for appearing so late and, as I see, complete. I guess we all had a sleepless night"

The serious greeting of the principal fell into a tense silence.

"While I do not assume that there is anyone in this room who is not yet aware of recent events, if I am wrong, I will not conceal the reason for this unscheduled conference: Sirius Black succeeded in breaking into the castle a few hours ago."

A startled murmur went through the benches. The events seemed to become real only when they were pronounced.

"I don't need to explain to you what a black day this is", the principal continued, "Hogwarts is once again no longer a safe place and we are lucky that the students, especially Harry Potter, were in the safety of the Great Hall at the time of the attack and not in their dormitories".

He paused for thought.

"How Black managed to penetrate Hogwarts at all is a mystery, of course. Neither our numerous threshold spells nor the positioning of dementors around our border walls could prevent what happened yesterday. Half an hour ago, I sent a rush owl to the Ministry of Magic to order an inspection of the Floo network. As you know, there are bans over the chimneys of Hogwarts that prevent anyone without proper authority from stepping out of the floo fire. A flaw in this system would be a significant security hole that could have allowed Black to enter the school.The apparition ban and the school's countless threshold and protection spells will also be subject to review. But all this will take some time. Time in which we must ensure Potter's safety. The Gryffindor Tower will be temporarily guarded by Sir Cardogan until the portrait of the Fat Lady is restored. During school hours, a constant escort should accompany the boy. None of us can say if and when and where Sirius Black will venture to break his cover again. Therefore, Professor McGonagall will draw up a shift plan with you, who will accompany Harry Potter from classroom to classroom starting from this hour over the next few days".

He laid his hand on the spread out documents and nodded to his deputy, who returned his gesture.

"If any of you noticed anything unusual last night," Dumbledore raised his voice again and fixed the round, "or would like to participate in the review of all our protection spells, please contact my office later in the day. On that note, I wish you all a blessed night and a restful sleep. Always remember: Hogwarts has experienced and overcome many crises. Where a danger within was unable to close the gates of our school forever, Sirius Black will not be able to either. So let us remain hopeful. Goodbye."

He nodded encouragingly into the circle once more, then turned around and disappeared with a silvery sheen of his blowing hair.

Minerva McGonagall stepped forward to explain the details to the college and to jointly develop the deployment plan. Remus tried to dispel his gloomy thoughts and concentrate fully on the conference. Half an hour later he was one of the last to get up. He had just reached the threshold when he suddenly felt a cold draft in his neck.

"What a day, isn't it?" a well-known voice breathed to him, "A real great moment for a traitor who lulls the whole world into believing he is harmless.

Remus immediately felt his heart sink as his fears came true. He immediately turned and looked into the cold eyes of Severus Snape. Icy cold it ran down his back, but he did not let it show. He steadfastly held his opponent's gaze, did not retreat a millimeter.

"I have nothing to do with this matter, Severus," he declared in a firm voice, "If you are looking for a culprit, you should try another address. I at least wash my hands of it".

And with these words he stepped over the threshold. The looks of the Potions Master that followed him in the corridor spoke volumes. A thousand promises to keep an eye on him lay in it, coupled with a smug grin. Remus tried to shake off his anxiety, to stop thinking about the aversion of his difficult colleague. But when he reached the staircase, where the silence of the night was deepest in him, he was overcome with quiet doubt. Was he really as uninvolved in everything that had happened in the last hours as he had claimed? Pausing, Remus stared into the darkness of the staircase that opened up above him. It had looked so good! After Severus had been plotting against him for almost two months; after he had taken every opportunity to make him feel his dislike, a little peace had returned in the last weeks. Although his old classmate seemed to be watching him with Argus eyes since the affair with the second year and a friendly word could still not be coaxed from him, a kind of truce had been established. Until now. Until that night, which was still permeated with a breath of terror. When Remus looked out into the hallway again, the door to the Great Hall opened next to him and a lonely, small group consisting of two fourth-graders and the head girl who was escorting them passed him to the nearby girls' restroom. A shiver gripped him as he watched the girls, a shiver of what could have happened. Shivering, he entered the stairs, and as if it had lurked in an ambush somewhere between the steps, the image suddenly stood before his eyes again: the big black dog in front of the portal and on the stairs he was just climbing - Sirius on his way to the Gryffindor Tower. Again and again during the last months this thought had come to him fleetingly like smoke when the Daily Prophet reported that the Phantom Black was simply not to be grasped. But it was only that night that it had taken on a clear shape. Remus stopped for a moment before he changed the stairs. He had reached the third floor. Back there, along the corridor and around the next bend, was the stairway to the principal's office. It was possible that Albus Dumbledore was still awake. And yet Remus hesitated. Wasn't this just a crazy idea?! Would Sirius, weakened by Azkaban, still be able to change? And wouldn't the school also offer protection against Animagi? A memory rose before Remus' mind:Four hands, united over the Marauders Map, vowing to keep a secret. The image stood like a wall in the corridor, blocking the turnoff. He alone knew about this black dog who was not one. Remus closed his eyes, took a deep breath and continued on his way.

Yawning, he opened his office on the seventh floor. The bedroom behind it lay in starless darkness. It was quiet and cool in the room. Sleepily, Remus sat down on the chaise longue and shook the pillow and feather blanket slightly. His consciousness slipped into the twilight state of half-sleep before his body touched the sheets.

_Fog spread around him, began to take shape. His spirit had led him out into the wilderness, into the Forbidden Forest and the big black dog had followed him into dreams. A long missed feeling overpowered Remus when he heard the barking coming towards him through the foggy trees and seconds later the stormy jump of his friend almost knocked him to the ground. Joy of reunion, untamed joy of reunion flowed through him as the cold muzzle touched his fur and a dog's tongue licked his wolf face. A squeaking rat scurried around his paws, and in the distance the majestic roaring of a mighty stag sounded. And for a moment Remus felt nothing but blissful security. But then, suddenly, the dog stopped, put on his ears and drove around. With bared teeth he crushed the rat and stormed yapping towards the stag. Speechless horror grabbed Remus as Padfoot dug his mouth into Pong's flank and the young animal at his side retreated in fear. "TRAITOR!" someone roared through the forest. But it wasn't his throat, closed with sheer horror, that escaped the scream. It was Severus'!_

Bathed in sweat, Remus gasped for breath and came to on the couch in his bedroom. His heart was beating wildly in his chest.His whole body was stiff like a board and the voice of his enemy still hung over him like a sword of Damocles. With a headache, Remus rose from his bed and looked into the dull, early sunlight that now filled the room. What a nightmare! But was it really just one? The memories of the previous night flew past him in rapid succession. The feeling of wandering through a strange illusion as the news went around that Sirius had broken into the Gryffindor Tower; the search; the conference; Dumbledore's office, which he left lying around, and last but not least, Severus' accusation.

Wistfully, Remus ran into the small adjoining bathroom and slipped out of his nightgown. Deep in his stomach, he felt a soft grumbling move. This hatred! These insinuations! Gradually he got really tired of this little game. No, he didn't feel any anger towards Severus, whose rejection was only the acknowledgement of years of looking the other way. Nor he had the intention to kowtow to him, had so far defied every one of his little intrigues. And yet... slowly his patience was wearing thin. He was tired. And not only because he had chased a phantom that night. He was tired of the evil glances; the hostile words; the endless distrust. He was tired of the cold war that Severus was boiling up again in his cauldron. If only he knew how to end it?!

Caught in the morning rut, Remus turned on the tap of the shower. But when the cold water ran over his body, it flashed through him like lightning. Harry's face reappeared in his mind's eye. James' son, whom he had invited into his office yesterday for a cup of tea. James' son, whom Sirius wanted to track down only hours later in the Gryffindor Tower! Traitor, mocked Severus' voice again in his mind. Remus leaned against the wall of the shower cubicle and closed his eyes. Was that the answer? Images rose before him. Pictures of the past and the present mixed in his mind. The boys' hands over the magical plan of Hogwarts; two boys and a girl leaving the classroom laughing, one of them with a lightning scar on his forehead. No, it wasn't the doubts about Sirius' animagic abilities or the school's threshold spells that kept him from visiting Dumbledore that night. With anyone else, he would not have hesitated a second, despite all the doubts. But with Sirius, he was bound by an old promise. A promise that seemed like a mockery in view of the tombstones in Godric's Hollow. And the cub in his dream, the only survivor, trembled not without reason. The butcher was still creeping around the house. And if the dementors did not stop him, he alone could prevent the worst.

Remus turned off the shower button, stepped out in the steam into the cool bath. A traitor looked at him from the mirror. A traitor he did not want to be! There was only one chance to convince Severus of himself. One chance to fulfill his duty and protect Harry. Driven by a bitter courage, Remus dressed himself. If he did not leave now, he might perhaps never. Soon the office was locked and before him lay Hogwarts in a young morning. But he did not go down to the Great Hall, where breakfast was waiting again in the meantime. His destination was Albus Dumbledore.


	14. Stones on the path

After a short conversation with Filch, who explained that the principal had already returned to his office, Remus stood on the third floor at nine o'clock sharp and shouted out the password: "Raspberry jam!

A crackling sound. A crunch. The eyes in the stone awoke. Slowly the gargoyle moved and then suddenly jumped to the side with a light-footed leap. A muffled sound echoed as he hit the tiles. Remus glanced down the hallway, left, right, then he entered. The moving staircase spiraled upwards, leisurely, towards the light that illuminated the staircase from the dome. Silent astonishment mixed into his impatience. Another spiral staircase like Severus'! But this did not lead down into a dark, cold dungeon, but up into warmth and light.

Finally the stairs snapped shut and Remus stood at the door with the gold-plated knocker in the shape of a griffin. Muffled noises penetrated through the door slit: footsteps, birdsong, murmuring. But the words were incomprehensible. Dumbledore seemed to speak to his phoenix. Remus attacked the griffin and knocked.

"Come in," a voice inside rang out and the door opened. Dumbledore stood in front of a stork-legged side table next to the bird bar, bathed in a corona of bright morning light, obscuring the view of his desk. With his left hand he stroked the feathers of the phoenix, with his right hand he just picked up an apparatus that looked like a big Secret Sensor"Ah, Professor Lupin," he remarked friendly as he turned to the door, "What is it that brings you to us?"Ah, Professor Lupin," he remarked friendly as he turned to the door, "What is it that brings you to us? Is it about the conference this morning?"

For a second, Remus stared at him irritated. Since when did Dumbledore include his phoenix in his greeting? By "us," Fawkes must have been meant, because otherwise there wasn't a soul in the room. But Remus did not dwell long on this mystery.

"Yes, Headmaster," he replied without hesitation, "I have thought about your appeal. And I think I have a..."

Suddenly it broke off. A cloud had moved in front of the sun and as the glaring light around Albus Dumbledore faded, he realized that he was wrong. The principal was not alone. Someone sat in front of the desk that now emerged from the shadow of light. But not just anyone. The man with the lime-green bowler was none other than Cornelius Fudge.

Surprised, Remus gasped for breath. In an instant he recovered his composure and wanted to continue talking. But something was holding him back, slowly pushing itself out of the darkness of past events and back into his consciousness. He heard the voice of Jim, the engineer of the Hogwarts Express'. And then with one blow it came back to him. _But Fudge threatened him that he would regret it if he heard again that the rules were being bent at the school,_ the man had said.

Remus became hot and the world before his eyes swayed a little. Here he stood and was about to confess before the Minister for Magic that Albus Dumbledore had been harboring three unregistered and underage Animagi for years. Unknown to him, his grace to take in a young werewolf was the reason why these Animagi had become Anigmagi in the first place. And Fudge would certainly not make any difference. Especially not if he knew that they had been roaming the Forbidden Forest at that time and had considered themselves so exalted that they thought they could easily avert the danger for their fellow students. No! Remus could not tell the principal about his suspicions. Not here, not now, not under the eyes of the Minister for Magic!

"Yes, Remus?" Dumbledore followed up as silence continued. Remus emerged from his thoughts and looked him in the face. He needed a good excuse fast!

"I feel guilty that I could not contribute anything to the protection of the school. As a teacher for the subject Defense Against the Dark Arts, it should have been my task to prevent Black from entering the castle. Therefore, I would like to volunteer to assist in checking the security spells, if I can contribute anything, Director, Mr. Fudge, Sir".

He nodded to the Minister for Magic, who narrowly returned his gesture. Dumbledore sighed.

"The last night is keeping us all in suspense," he confessed quietly, "but the more helping hands are offered, the faster we can avert the danger.

Then he turned his face to the desk and continued a bit louder: "You see, Cornelius, as I assured you, the faculty at Hogwarts is able to resolve this incident and restore the safety of the school without the assistance of other dementors. Although the short time available has not yet allowed for a major planning conference, thanks to the dedication of my staff, initial inspections of the protective enclosure and threshold spells can already be carried out".

Remus could be wrong, but for a moment he thought he saw Cornelius Fudge turning up his nose. Dumbledore turned to him again.

"Severus and Filius are out and about in the schoolhouse this morning during the hour change, searching the exits, corridors, secret doors and secret hallways for traces of dark magic applications. Minerva plans to check the external borders after lunch. Join one of them if your schedule permits. I am sure they will be happy to have your support. Goodbye and good luck".

Remus politely said goodbye to his supervisor and the Minister for Magic and stepped to the door. On the threshold he could still hear Fudge telling the principal that he expected accurate reports of all the news in this case and Dumbledore responding with a mysterious 'of course'. He was miserable at these words, and his condition did not improve when he stood in the castle grounds hours later, pulling up his holey scarf to his ears to protect himself from the harsh November wind.

"So, that was it. We can turn back. If he didn't fly, I don't know for the life of me how Black managed to do this. I hope Albus has an idea by now. By Merlin, not a year without incident!"

Professor McGonagall looked down on the roots of the Whomping Willow. Then she touched the spot in the trunk, stepped back and watched from a proper distance as the tree came back to life. It had been her last stop. They had interrogated the boar figures at the great gate and checked the powerful transformation spell inside for damage. They had examined the invisible, magical barrier to the Forbidden Forest and scoured the entire area with revelation spells. Together with Hagrid, they had even rowed out onto the lake and had, with admittedly moderate success, questioned the Merpeople in sign language. They had checked every spot, every spell, every ban in the area. All without success.

"The airspace above Hogwarts is not secure?" Remus asked and looked up in amazement at the graying sky, while a gust ruffled his hair. Twenty years ago he knew all the secrets of the school. But there was so much he had forgotten.

"No," explained Minerva McGonagall dryly and pulled her tartan cloth tighter around her shoulders, "If you weren't flying around with a fire-breathing dragon, Remus, at least at night you could get to the towers unhindered. A barrier in the air would considerably impede postal traffic. But whoever thinks they have to enter Hogwarts unauthorized via the towers will not get far from there. All access to the spires is monitored by Foe-Glasses."

She ran up to the path and with a shivering hand she indicated that she wanted to return to the school building as quickly as possible. Remus stepped beside her.

"We should perhaps consider that Black came in a different shape," he hinted cautiously to wait for her reaction.

But McGonagall just shook his head.

"If Black had used a disillusionment charm, he would have failed due to the permanent finite incantem bans on the thresholds. Even though I assume he got a wand somewhere, I don't think he could have gotten in through any of the towers".

Remus sighed within himself. That especially she, his former teacher of transformation and even Animagi, did not understand the allusion! An ordinary Finite Incantatem helped against many spells, but not against such powerful self-transformation. Perhaps he had to be clearer. But Remus felt that Dumbledore learned better from himself than from his deputy.When would he get the chance to talk to him in private again?

"Remus...", a muted, suggestive address ripped him from his thoughts. He looked into McGonagall's face, which was riddled with seriousness.

"I cannot keep it from you: Professor Snape believes that you helped him. I, of course-"

Remus interrupted her with a nod. "It's all right," he replied quietly, tracing the sting in his soul. The unspoken words, the long known truth, faded away in meaningful silence. It was not yet broken when suddenly loud rustling of leaves sounded. As in the old days of the Order of the Phoenix, he and Minerva pulled the wands at lightning speed. Through the twilight, which in the meantime took away the view into the distance, a lantern swayed towards her. But when Remus recognized the face behind it, he let the wand sink. It was only Filch, followed by his cat.

"Ah, you're still here, Professor Lupin, Professor McGonagall. Been looking all over the castle for you!"

Minerva, too, slipped the wand back under her cloak.

"We were just on our way back. What is it, Argus?"

"Professor Snape sent me," the janitor explained, "He didn't find any traces of Black in the Owlery, but he did find two fifth graders from your house and a bunch of brightly colored and flight-clattering owls. They are waiting in your office."

Minerva McGonagall audibly sucked in air. In the light of the lantern her face became red and Remus could have sworn that it was not the cold autumn air.

"Brightly colored, clattering owls," she repeated slowly, only a second later snorting angrily.

"Fred and George Weasley! Oh, if two students ever bring me to my grave, these two will. Come on, Argus. I don't want my office walls to start clattering before I've had a chance to talk to them."

And with energetic steps she stomped away. Remus looked after her and suddenly felt affected. It must have been the same when James and Sirius had done something wrong. And none of them had ever given a thought to what they were doing to their teacher. But before he could start moping again, his eyes fell on something else. Mrs. Norris, who usually always stroked Filch's legs and gave everyone a nasty twinkle from her lamp eyes, had pressed herself against the rock a good distance away and bent her back into a hump. Remus raised his eyebrows. Mrs. Norris was scared?!

"Mr. Filch," he asked half-absent, "What about your cat?"

The janitor grimaced.

"Didn't you know that? Cats are afraid of dogs, Professor!" he replied grimly.

Remus understood what he wanted to tell him and at any time it would have hurt him deeply. But at that moment, his attention was on completely different things. If the cat was bucking, didn't that mean the dog was nearby? Pulling the wand, Remus whirled around, peered into the bushes. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Filch shaking his head, comfortingly taking Mrs. Norris in his arms and pulling her away. But he did not care. If Sirius was here, if he was planning another attack, he had to prevent it. Strained, he sharpened his senses. But not the slightest rustling or crackling of a branch could be heard, not a bitter smell was in the air, and the only noise in the bushes and trees came from wind blowing roughly around his ears.

There was nothing to suggest that Sirius was here at that moment. But, Remus turned to the Whomping Willow, he could have been not so long ago! Perhaps he had hidden in the Shrieking Shack and used the old secret passage? Maybe he had left a few hairs when he stole out? This Mrs Norris seemed to be a particularly attentive animal. Remus had already overheard some student whispering in the hallways.

Thoughtfully, he looked at the tree that had been planted to protect him. They had examined it with a Homenum Revelio, which is effective in the past. But a dog was not human! Cave Inimicium, Salvio Hexia, Apparation Bane and Muggle Defense Spells. They all had an effect only on humans. But an Animagus in his animal form could enter the grounds and the castle like any creature of his kind. Nothing stopped him if no special spell prevented it.

Taking a deep breath, Remus again drew his wand. Describing a circle, he walked around the pasture and spoke the magic words over and over again: "Canis Exumai". Looking at his invisible work, he held out for a moment. The spell circle was established. But how long it would last was not clear.

In the roaring wind, which slowly grew into a storm, Remus made his way back to the castle. Between the dry leaves that spun across the paths, he vowed to visit Dumbledore a second time as soon as possible. But no matter how much his spirit tied itself to the promise, deep inside, a voice barely audible whispered that he would not keep it. His hand had trembled as he cast the spell, as if a bond older than the spell had bound him.


	15. dark secrets

The first week of November was lost in a veritable deluge of showers and squalls. What began as a drizzle and fresh wind was already crackling, drumming and whipping so violently against the walls and arched windows in the night to Wednesday that the whole castle sank into nightmares. The hurricane tore bricks from the roofs and broke the windows of two classrooms as it drove splinters of them against them. Under the constant rain, the castle grounds soon turned into a muddy brown marshland, and at the edge of the Forbidden Forest the trunks of felled trees blocked the few paths.

For a moment Remus stopped at one of the arched windows and looked out. Grey over grey the world spread out before his eyes. Not much was visible, only blurred shadows and now and then one of the branches whipping against the window pane in the wind.

"Quite a storm, huh?" shouted one of the portraits from the gallery.

"Yes," Remus replied muttering until his voice choked in a hotter caw and he tore himself away from the window with a cough.

The long corridors were deserted and almost eerily quiet. Remus had met only two students in the Great Hall on this Saturday morning, and for a moment he imagined the hustle and bustle that was raging outside on the Quidditch Field. Wistfulness rose in him. How he would have loved to see Harry sweeping through the air with his broom and red-golden cape and, as the youngest player of the century, doing James every credit. It would not have been too late to steal away. But the inhospitable weather could have easily turned his cold into a dangerous pneumonia, and by the time he was able to get a feeding potion from Madame Pomfrey, his body had to have completely broken down the Wolfsbane Potion that still burrowed in his veins.

So Remus did not turn off to the portal, but took one of the direction-changing stairs to his classroom. Attentively he inspected the room. Severus had represented him yesterday afternoon and he did not want to know what intrigues his colleague had again spun against him. But everything looked the same as ever. The chairs were placed on the benches, the cupboards locked, the blackboard wiped. When he had also searched the small storage room and found it tidy, he sat down at his desk, pulled a document folder out of his leather bag, and began to correct the small test with which he had completed the theme "Inferi" in the sixth grade. He could have done this work in his office. But in the meantime he had so many exhibits from the Magic Zoological Museum and display animals from the Merlin Academy stored there that it soon became cramped for him. Here he had space, peace and quiet and also more daylight. Stealthily, Remus glanced over to the rows of arched windows. Could one see the Quidditch Field from here?

The panes, at any rate, were also veiled by the constant rain that ran down them in torrents. And even if the view had been better, there were still tall trees surrounding the area. Disappointed, he turned back to the test. The storm rushed around him, ripped at the shutters and whistled through the beams. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. The howling of the wind! It sounded like his own howling in the old hut when he was locked up there on the full moon nights of his youth. Or like the howling of a dog that dragged itself through the storm. Both made Remus shiver. It touched something he actually wanted to bury deep inside himself: his guilty conscience.

He still had not spoken with Dumbledore; had let this week pass despite his firm resolution. There was simply no opportunity, he tried to tell himself, knowing at the same time that it was a lie. Before meals in the Great Hall, after the special conferences on the school's security audit, or at any of their accidental encounters in the hallway, it would have been easy for a determined person to ask the principal for a private conversation. But Remus was not determined. Something, if only he knew what, always sealed his lips at the decisive moment. Why? Did he still want to protect Dumbledore?

Thoughtfully, he let his gaze wander over the empty benches until the answer came to him by itself. No, it was not; not the whole truth, anyway. Albus was not so devoted to Fudge that he did not know how to cheat the gallows.As explosive as the information about Sirius seemed, not even the Minister of Magic would dare to cross-examine the most powerful magician in recent history. No, the matter was much more complicated. Lost in gloomy thoughts, Remus looked at the door, expected, no hoped from the deepest depths of his soul that it would open and Sirius' face would appear in the frame. That he would come towards him with outstretched arms and explain that it was all just a big misunderstanding.

Then, all of a sudden, Remus remembered the evening when Severus had ambushed him in his office. In the meantime his colleague had gotten into the habit of knocking and Remus had let him know in a roundabout way that he was still waiting for an apology. Severus had contorted his face, pressed his lips together and didn't say a word. It was almost as if the request for forgiveness was sitting across his throat like a piece of bread. And Remus knew why.

He averted his gaze, banished the images from his thoughts. Neither of them would knock on his door and take the burden off his shoulders, break the chain of trust, betrayal and guilt. A final answer flickered on the horizon of his consciousness.An answer that he hardly dared to face and which only penetrated him as a faint echo. Albus Dumbledore had been his savior. Back when the principal had the Whiping Willow planted, just as he does today when he pulled it out of the gutter. Dumbledore trusted him. And what a deep breach of trust it was that he and all his friends had broken the school rules to be together! The fear of losing the favor of loved ones had always been his biggest flaw. Forebodingly, Remus sensed that this weakness would take its revenge. Maybe very soon...

~*~

"But Sirius escaped the dementors," Harry said slowly. "He is fleeing them"

Remus was sweating from every pore. Still he felt his heartbeat stop for a second, how the bag had slipped from the shaking fingers and only a sudden, well-aimed grip had slowed its fall. The classroom was empty, James' son had left. But he had left behind powerful, stirring words. Words that got under his skin and burned. Exhaling heavily, Remus turned away from the door that had just fallen into the lock. The promise to train Harry in the fight against the dementors was far away. Why had they appeared at the Quidditch match? Just to feed on the whipped-up emotions?! Perhaps. Or maybe they had been hunting something in the bushes. Something that no one under the school roof knew anything about. Except him. Tense, Remus ran his fingers across the desk. Then he turned to the blackboard. Something choked him like a noose around his neck, which was slowly tightening. If anything happened to James' son; if Sirius should manage to get into the school again, then perhaps it was his fault. The pressure seemed to make his heart almost burst. Two hands seemed to tear at his soul, trying to tear it apart over Marauders' Map.

Remus closed his eyes, tried to escape the distress in his thoughts. Unsuccessfully. He could not sit around inactively. The whole of Hogwarts seemed to have no ban or revealing spell to keep Animagi away or at least expose them. And him? He was the only insider among the battlements of the castle. If he could not open his mouth, he had to take matters into his own hands! Hadn't he just put Harry off by being very busy? Of course, he was thinking more of the class tests that were due before Christmas; of the correspondence and errands with the Merlin Academy and the museum; and of ordering new textbooks from Flourish & Flotts since someone had stolen all the works for his lessons from the school library. But in between all this, there was to be some time to add some protective spells to the school itself. He looked up at the clock above the blackboard. There were still a few hours left until dinner. But after that he had time and he would use it. With a stone in his stomach, Remus left the classroom and covered it with threshold spells. He knew he was doing the least he had to do, and yet he was uncomfortable.

Remus had a lot to do over the next few days. As soon as the clock struck nine and the students had retired to their homes, he was out and about in the galleries, on the stairs and in the corridors, securing every loophole with a permanent Canis Exuamai. Starting in the basement, he worked his way floor by floor toward the towers.

It must have been on Thursday, when in front of the door of a teachers' lounge, near the back stairs to the school gardens, a black figure suddenly stepped out of a side wing and blocked his way. Remus didn't need to shine his wand at the face to know who he had in front of him.

"Ah, good evening, Professor Lupin. What a surprise," whispered Severus Snapes in the wrong tone, "Are we going for a little evening walk? To the greenhouse, perhaps to watch the night sky? One should have an excellent view of the Dog Star from there!

Remus stared at the pale face with the black eyes that assessed him, waiting for him to give himself away. But although this encounter was all he needed, he did not let himself be provoked.

"No, I had other things to do," he replied calmly and nodded just over to the toilet, "Good evening.

He wanted to turn around his colleague and return to the main wing, but once again Severus would not let him go.

"Perhaps you should speak to Madam Pomfrey. You must have an extremely weak bladder as often as you go to the toilets!

Remus turned his head and looked his opponent straight in the face. Snape's lips curled up into a bitterly angry smile. A grin that revealed that he had been on his track the whole time. Remus' stomach cramped up. But should his old enemy believe that he would cower before him, he was wrong.

"By Merlin, this is ridiculous, Severus!"

With one step, Remus was with him and lowered his voice.

"Sirius has betrayed and murdered three of my best friends He would have sent me to my doom, too, if he'd had the chance. Do you really believe I would help him break into the castle? Here, where James' only son lives? You see things in the wrong light, Severus, your hatred blinds you!"

They still looked at each other. Not a muscle was stirring in the stoic face of his counterpart.

"But if you want to know for sure," Remus continued, to break the silence, "I took another look at the threshold bans.

"The inspections of the safety spells have been completed for almost a week!" Severus finally replied.

"Still, it does no harm to reinforce them a little!"

Snape did not seem to listen. He stretched out one of his long, thin fingers and pressed it against his chest while his eyes drowned in hatred.

"I warn you," he whispered, "Dumbledore has his eyes everywhere, and he hasn't given up searching for the culprit yet. Every secret comes to light at some point. Be certain, whatever it is you are up to, I will find out. ...and then your deception will be over."

He looked sharply left, then right.

"So long, werewolf," he breathed, and went off like a black phantom.

Werewolf. Secret. The words echoed in the silence that his departure had left behind. Remus stared into the darkness. For a moment, his thoughts drifted to the lesson in Harry's class on Monday. In the first second he could not believe that Severus had gone so far as to draw the class's attention to his 'furry problem' in a roundabout way. But what had he expected from a man who hated him? Luckily, no student had ever seen through the broad hint. But what did Severus mean when he said that Albus had his eyes everywhere and had not given up the search for the culprit yet? Did Snape know more than the rest of the staff?

Thoughtfully, Remus frowned and looked back on two and a half months. Again he saw Dumbledore's face in the dungeons before him, heard his voice: 'Getting to Severus is seldom an easy task, even when the request is justified. I will talk to him again, but I can promise nothing, Remus'. The memory mingled with countless others: Severus, who came to meet him from the spiral staircase when he wanted to discuss the substitution plans with the principal again during the first week; Dumbledore, who asked Severus to go for a walk after dinner; Albus and Snape, who exchanged glances at the final conference on the security audit as if they were communicating without words. One thing was clear: this connection was more than a mere employment relationship. Something happened between the two of them that went beyond the way Dumbledore met his other teachers. But what exactly it was, Remus could not get hold of. Thoughtfully, he turned around and disappeared into the darkness of the corridors.

It was the same darkness that filled the corridors three days later, when Remus completed his work on the night of Sunday. A starless black sky hung over the towers of the castle. Low hanging clouds announced a new storm. And in the corridors lay an eerie silence like the calm before the storm that was brewing outside. It was so late that even the teachers who were assigned to the night watch had already gone to rest. And he and Mrs. Norris were probably the only ones still roaming the building, Remus thought. But the cat would soon have to go stalking alone, for his eyes fell closed.Drunk asleep, he turned into the gallery that would lead him to his office, when suddenly something made him wince: voices!

Somewhere in the blackness of the staircase he could hear voices. And they seemed to come closer. All of a sudden, wide awake again, Remus pressed himself against the portrait wall and listened into the darkness. Who at Merlin's beard was still on his feet at this hour? At the landing of one of the direction-changing stairs diagonally above him two wand lights suddenly appeared.The light was too weak to recognize the faces of the nightwalkers. But when he heard the voice of the man who was now speaking, he took a deep breath. It was only Albus Dumbledore.

"The school board, for example," he just said to his unknown companion.

"The school board, for example," he just said to his unknown companion.And Remus, who assumed it was Professor McGonagall, moved away from his wall and sneaked away quietly so as not to disturb them. And Remus, who was betting on Professor McGonagall, moved away from his wall and sneaked away quietly so as not to disturb them. But just as he entered the crossway, the next words made him shiver with a thud through his marrow and leg.

"You don't mean that...", replied a cold, oily voice, which certainly did not belong to Minerva.

"We must consider that Black had help," Dumbledore replied, "Many of his followers are still at large. Most of them hide under the mask of a righteous life from the Aurors' grip. They would not take any risk themselves to avenge their master. But who knows how many of them would be willing at any time to support one who gets his fingers dirty instead of them! Severus, I asked you to make this late trip to the castle grounds to discuss things in peace and quiet, away from my portraits, among which are distant relatives of Black that I have not yet come to examine. The situation is serious. We need to find out if Black has found allies who will give him shelter and pass on information. We need to know where he's hiding and if there's a leak at the ministry."

"As you know, I have had little contact with the milieu since Karkaroff's hearing!"

"I am aware. I don't expect you to check up on everyone who ever served him. The first thing we should do is check out a very specific man. You know who I mean. Use whatever connections you have left. If there is anyone a follower of Voldemort would confide in, it would be someone from his own ranks, someone like you".

The world stood still. Remus did not know whether his legs were holding him or whether he was collapsing. He didn't know if air was still flowing into his lungs or if he had forgotten to breathe. Everything - the corridor, the portraits, the voices and lights in the distance - blurred. Everything revolved around the one horrible realization that numbed his senses and bored itself into his thoughts like a dagger: Severus Snape had been a Death Eater! And Dumbledore allowed him to teach at Hogwarts.


	16. Carousel of thoughts

The steps echoed on the walls of the classroom. Nervously Remus directed them through the room, closing window after window by hand, without magic. He glanced up briefly, contemplating his surroundings: the benches behind which carelessly pushed chairs stood to one side; the two paper planes on the floor, the full blackboard behind him, wrapped in chalk dust. When he discovered the forgotten Slytherin scarf in the last row, a shiver came over him. But then he pulled the wand, let the chairs float on the tables and the flyers in the trash can, brought the scarf to the side chamber and cleaned the blackboard with a scouring charm. All this happened without him really being involved. In front of the windows, thick fog veiled the darkening afternoon sky and obscured the paths in the castle grounds from view. Remus could see nothing in the reflections of the window pane but his own face. Taking a deep breath, he turned away again and packed his bag.

The bell struck five as he entered the corridor and immediately felt pursued. Not by a human or any other living being. The cold breeze in his neck was of a different nature. Outside the corridor windows, ghostly hands seemed to write question marks in the fog. Question marks paved the way down to the Great Hall, sat down next to him at the teacher's table and seemed to settle on the faces all around him. The phantom revealed his name. It was called Why.

Why had Dumbledore hired Severus, knowing full well what a gloomy past his potion master had had? Why did he put his trust in him, let him spy on the Death Eaters?

This question occupied Remus for almost a week now. Again and again it flared up. Like today in the last hour of school when some Slyhterins whispered about Sirius and Voldemort, or now when Severus gave him a sinister look and then bent over to Professor Vektor to let her pass the salt.

Absent-minded, Remus averted his gaze, directed it to the small bottle next to his plate. Pepper Up Potion in a special dosage, adapted to the peculiarities of his body, which reacted to some potions differently than ordinary people. He was glad that Poppy understood her craft in his case, too and had noted down the intervals of taking the potions exactly. And yet Remus could no longer swallow his medicine so unselfconsciously. The thought of who had brewed the potion caused him a queasy stomach with every drop. Of course it was nonsense! If Severus had wanted to harm him, the Wolfsbane Potion would have given him every opportunity to do so. But in fact it was not so much the fear of poisoning that drove him crazy, but rather the thought of what this hand might have been doing other than brewing potions.

Remus closed his eyes for a moment to forget the brooding and tried to concentrate only on dinner. The phantom left his side. He found out where it had fled to when he returned to his bedroom and tried to end the evening by reading. After ten pages he closed the book again.Neither his reading nor the student drawings of the Hinkypunks nor the scratchy singing of Elvira Prisley from the gramophone really distracted him. His thoughts circled and circled and circled.

At first he had tried to convince himself that he had misunderstood the scraps of conversation in their sense or had simply misheard them in his tiredness. But the doubts died quickly. Neither one nor the other was true. Dumbledore had expressed himself clearly on both counts. And had he himself, Remus, not always suspected it? Voldemort had recruited most of his followers from the house whose founder had already placed great value on pure blood. Many Slytherins of their generation had also joined him. Sirius' little brother, who eventually disappeared from the scene. Bellatrix, his cousin, who admittedly was a little older than him. And Severus? Severus had already been deeply involved in the dark arts as a first-grader; had ambushed James, Sirius, Peter, and Remus himself with spells and curses not found in any textbook. Yes, even Lily, who was a childhood friend, he had insulted as Mudblood. Any one of them could have sworn back then that one day he' would join the Death Eaters. No, the real surprise had been to see him again at Hogwarts. For this reason alone, Remus had not given a thought to the possible career of his old enemy in the last months. Lily's angrily denied and yet never completely abandoned hope that he would somehow find his way back to the right path must have come true. It could not be any other way. For Dumbledore would not hire a Death Eater. Never! Remus had been sure of that. But certainties had always had a habit of breaking into this war like houses of cards. For a moment Sirius flickered through his memories and his neck hair stood up. Voldemort's reign of terror confused friendship and enmity beyond recognition and what remained were secrets and mysteries.

Absent, Remus began to tidy up his bedroom: in his suitcase, in the closets, in all those private corners that the Hous-Elfs never touched. Perhaps this tedious work would finally stop the merry-go-round in his head. It didn't take long before he actually found some distraction in it. When he was almost finished with the closet, his fingers finally felt an old shoebox in the back corner. Wistfulness rose in him. For years, the last remains of the large model landscape, which he had tinkered with enthusiastically for years as a boy, had been stored in this box. Again and again his father had brought him new souvenirs from the 'world outside', which he was never allowed to see. Remus carefully pulled out the box and lifted the lid. A stab went through his heart when he saw the ruins of Diagon Alley. One day he would repair this model, which was too old for a simple reparo to last long.

When he put the shoebox back in the closet, a simple summer robe that he had just pushed aside gave off a strange rustle. A rustle that did not sound like fabric. Remus carefully scanned the garment and sensed something flat in the breast pocket. He let his fingers slide in and pulled the item out with a jerk. A handwriting flashed in the light of the kerosene lamp. A familiar handwriting. The letter! Ilaria's letter! Remus Puls picked up speed. About the turbulent events since Halloween, he had almost forgotten his little liaison in Italy. To hold this letter in his hands again was like waking from a dream. Not a nice awakening, because the memory of Ilaria was still clouded by the terrible end of this summer love affair. But at that moment the past was a welcome distraction from the present. Covered by the band-aid of time, the wound was no longer burning as much as it did three months ago. It was mid November, the summer sun drowned in downpours. In the meantime Remus had come to terms with the fact that this relationship had also failed in every respect. And that was the reason why he closed the closet and went to the desk where the letter opener was. More than the agonizing thoughts about why Dumbledore had hired a Death Eater, even Ilaria's words could not burden him. How much he should be mistaken...

Minutes later Remus let the letter sink again as if his hand was made of lead. Something cold flowed through his body, awakening a tremor. No, Ilarias words did not distract him. They went deep under his skin. Apparently the landlord had delivered his letter to her as agreed. And her reaction to it was a great plea. A plea for answers, for truths. She had not bought his flimsy lie that family matters forced him to leave immediately. What Remus held in his hands was a record full of helplessness, incomprehension and the pain of the abandoned. Once again he skimmed over the lines and traced the sting in his heart. He had not wanted to hurt her after all. Even though he should have known better, he had hoped that her feelings had been just a flash in the pan. What a fool he had been! But it was not only because of her that the letter hurt him so. Again and again, his gaze remained fixed on that one line. Are you perhaps married? _Are you responsible for a child and your wife saw us and attacked me?_ The truth struck him as cold. Yes, he had responsibility for a child! For a thirteen-year-old boy who was about to be killed by his own godfather. And under this roof a man who once was one of the allies of his master was teaching. If Sirius had indeed been too weakened in Azkaban to still be able to transform, then he must have had help. Help from Severus? That sounded unbelivable! And yet, had it not once been inconceivable that Sirius would betray James?

_Dumbledore seems to trust him_ , had Remus repeatedly recited himself like a mantra in the last days. But it was not enough to calm his doubts. He had to act, had to find out what was behind it. Otherwise he would not have a quiet minute under the roof of this school. For a moment he still weighed the letter in his hands. Ilaria had waited so long, she finally deserved an answer. Hesitantly, Remus reached out his hand for the pen and inkwell. But then he paused. A weight of lead crept into his fingers at the thought of writing down the meaningful words "I am a werewolf". These words, which all too often meant being pushed aside forever. He took a deep breath, then hastily packed the letter in a wooden box. There was still time. Other things counted more at the moment.

Remus turned to the bedside table. The alarm clock showed two minutes to half past ten. Too late to visit colleagues and engage them in a little chat. Too early to go to bed on a Friday evening. In any case, he wouldn't be able to sleep a wink. But where should he start his search? The easiest thing would be to go to the principal's office and confront him with his involuntary observation. But Remus shied away from that. As queasy as he was about this, he respected Albus Dumbledore too much to place the wand directly on his chest. Especially at this time of day! No, he had another idea. Quickly Remus took the bunch of keys from the hook next to the door, detached the chunky, copper-colored one with the stylized book from the ring. Severus had mentioned something about Karkaroff's hearing, and if there were any records of the old Death Eater trials anywhere in the school, it was in the school library.

Less than a quarter of an hour later he stood in front of the archive of old daily prophets and looked at the countless matchbox-sized compartments in which an entire century of space-savingly shrunken newspapers were stored. Had he not been sure that Madam Pince had cast a spell over the archive, he would have tried an Accio. But so Remus worked his way through the early 1982 by hand until his eyes threatened to close. Finally, when the bell in Hogsmeade struck two deep and two light strokes, he found what he was looking for.

'Karkaroff unpacks! was the headline. With a pounding heart Remus flew over the lines until his breath stopped for a moment.

...The only name that Karkaroff could mention, and which had not yet been magiccriminally investigated, was a man named Severus Snape. But even this information turned out to be useless. None other than the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and holder of the Order of Merlin, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, personally vouched for the integrity of the named. "Severus Snape was indeed a Death Eater, but he rejoined our ranks even before Lord Voldemort's downfall and worked for us as a spy, at great risk to his own life. He is no more a Death Eater today than I am," he declared during the ongoing hearing...

So it was true! Severus had indeed joined Voldemort. But that was not all. Dumbledore had defended him with fiery words that lacked nothing of conviction. Darkly Remus remembered that Moody had mentioned that their leader had vouched for one of his spies. But Remus had never known that it was his old classmate, and if it was, he had forgotten. Still stunned, he touched the top of the newspaper to the compartment that instantly sucked in the Daily Prophet and left the library.

Darkness and silence welcomed him in the corridors. He had set out to find answers. And indeed, one question was solved. But in the emptiness it left behind, new riddles were already sprouting and the mists still hung in front of the arched windows.


	17. Investigations

The weekend went by, taking Monday and Tuesday with it, without much changing. Remus was stuck in the clouds of his brooding and could not bring himself to trust his colleague as much as their supervisor did. In four days there was also little new to learn. One thing, however, he had found out in a little chat with Minerva McGonagall: Severus Snape had taken up his position in the middle of the school year and initially shared it with Horace Slughorn. That had been in November 1981. And this fact gave him even more to think about. So soon after Voldemort's fall? This could not be a coincidence! Had Dumbledore's job offer persuaded him to change sides?

Tired, Remus put aside the old Daily Prophet, which he had copied with a Gemini spell on Monday afternoon and ordered a last Butterbeer from Rosmerta. He regretted not having listened more closely when Moody and Dumbledore reported on the latest developments in this turbulent time, shortly before the dissolution of the Order of the Phoenix. The shock of losing his best friends overnight had left him living for weeks in a world of absorbent cotton, a strangely unreal nightmare. And even though he had breathed, slept and eaten, Remus could not remember having really existed during this time. The outside world had passed him by like the rustling of a Lethifold.

Gradually the Three Broomsticks emptied. Tuesday evening was obviously not a good pub day. Only the blue haze of cigarettes hung over many tables. Their producers had disappeared. Remus felt somewhat reminded of the late hours in the Centaur Court, that special place in London where he sometimes drowned his domestic worries in butter beer and where he had also met David before he met him again in the Palus District. But here was not London. The rafters of the bourgeois tavern may have seen a lot over the centuries. But whether they also suspected something of werewolves, love among men and school principals who hired Death Eaters? Remus did not know. Slowly he packed up his things, emptied his beer and left the money on the counter for Rosmerta.

When he stepped out into the inhospitable weather, the November storms roared around his ears and the rain fell down on him in torrents, Remus made a decision. There was no point in silently worrying about why Severus was allowed to work at Hogwarts despite his past instead of sitting behind the walls of Azkaban. It was no use trying to find out the truth by stealth. He was no longer a schoolboy who explored the secrets of Hogwarts with his friends behind the backs of the teachers. He was part of the staff himself and had responsibility for his students. As much as he had shied away from the idea, it didn't help! He had to talk to Dumbledore. Only the principal himself could bring clarity to this forest of questions. Sooner or later he would have had to confront him with his concerns anyway, for Harry's sake. Why not now? As soon as possible he would visit Albus in his office. Remus pushed open the portal firmly and returned to the home halls of Hogwarts.

The opportunity arose on Thursday. Dumbledore told Poppy and Flitwick at lunch that he was glad not to be tied down by any further commitments today and that he would probably spend his day off with a good book and some chamber music. Remus, who did not necessarily want to negotiate the matter in front of everyone, hesitated to approach him about his request. Anyway, he was uncomfortable that Severus, of all people, looked at him sharply when he became very sensitive and listened attentively to the conversation. But he decided to visit the director after class.

The circular office was filled with soft music as he entered and met the gaze of the principal, who probably wasn't expecting anyone else that evening.

"Remus," Dumbledore exclaimed to him standing in front of a bookcase. There was something surprised in his tone. But he was not unkind.

"Yes, Headmaster that's me," Remus replied somewhat stiffly and cleared his throat, "I hope I'm not intruding?Albus swayed his head for a second as if he was indecisive. But then he smiled.

"But no, sit down and have a lemon drop," he replied and pointed to the desk.

As Remus crossed the office, he noticed that the bookcase Dumbledore had been working on had no books in it. Instead, small, colorful folders like those used for filing and storing letters were lined up in it, packed close together. Frowning, Remus glanced at them in wonder, but then left them and sat down on one of the chairs in front of the desk. Dumbledore had meanwhile lit the candelabra on it, and the light from the candles was reflected on the lenses of his crescent glasses, over the edges of which he looked at Remus.

"So what brings you to me," he asked calmly, freeing one of the fizzy drops from the glass bowl from its shiny shell.

Remus cleared his throat again. This conversation was exactly like the ones they had had in the old days when he told Dumbledore about the werewolves that had joined Voldemort and who had switched to their side.

"It's about Severus Snape," he spoke plainly.

A deep groan filled the room. Dumbledore's eyes wandered briefly to the dome of the tower room and then back to him. A touch of pity was reflected in the blue eyes.

"I know that he suspects you of having let Black into the castle," the principal calmly remarked, "but I assure you, Remus, that this does not apply to me. Your shared past may blind Severus as to his assessment of you. But be assured: you enjoy my complete trust!"

Remus shook his head gently.

"I really appreciate that, Dumbledore. But that's not why I'm here."

The white eyebrows moved up a little.

"Then what for?" asked the principal, irritated.

Remus took a deep breath, reached into his leather bag, pulled out the old Daily Prophet and spread it out on the desk.

"Here," he said, pointing to the article and giving Albus time to read. As the principal's eyes flew across the lines, Remus felt as if his counterpart's face was losing a nuance of color.

"I witnessed a conversation between you and Snape in the hallway two weeks ago," he continued before Albus spoke, "Unfortunately, it was unavoidable. And since then I have been wondering why. Why did you hire him, Dumbledore?"

The principal did not answer. As if struck by a paralyzing spell, he put the newspaper aside, stood up and stepped to one of the windows. Only after some time did he seem to have recovered his speech.

"I can imagine that this discovery shocked you, Remus," he remarked heavily, his back turned to the room, "I probably wouldn't react any differently if I were you.

Remus squinted his eyes together, took a deep breath. Then he stood up, bent over the desk and fixed the reflection of his counterpart on the window pane.

"I don't understand it, Dumbledore! You, who fought Lord Voldemort all your life?! How can you...?"

He broke off as the words slipped away from him, drowning in a wave of disappointment and anger.

"I have my reasons," Dumbledore replied soberly.

Remus literally bit his tongue to save himself any response. With a deep pull, he exhaled his anger. Dumbledore must have heard it, for finally he turned to him again.

"People can change, Remus," he explained seriously, "Do you really think I would hire a man as a teacher in my school whose conversion I was not absolutely convinced of?

But Remus shook his head.

"You may believe that. And I don't blame you for that either, Dumbledore. But as principal, you may not have noticed everything that happened in the corridors outside this office every day. Severus was steeped in the Dark Arts even as a student. He sympathized with Death Eaters and he-"

"-has changed!" Albus spoke to him with such a firm tone that Remus immediately fell silent. Then he lowered his voice. "I know it is a lot to ask, but trust me, Remus. I am well aware of Severus' past and present. He would not join Voldemort again today. Of that I am absolutely certain".

For a moment, Remus looked at him in silence, trying to contain the rage inside him.

"But then why don't you let me know what convinced you of his repentance? Why don't you explain to me what made him switch to our side?"

"Because this is a matter between Severus and me," Dumbledore replied, slowly returning to the table, "Please do not intrude on me any further. I would have to break my word to answer your question."

Skeptical of his counterpart, Remus stopped in front of the desk while Dumbledore took his seat again. He had to think of Sirius; of his betrayal as well as of the fact that someone might have helped him in his break-in.

"It's not just what I think. It's about Harry," he remarked with concern.

Dumbledore nodded grandfatherly.

"I know," he replied sympathetically, "Sit down. I cannot tell you any more about this matter. But to take away your doubts, I would like to tell you about an anecdote."

Remus gave him a doubtful look. Then he reluctantly settled down. Dumbledore put his pointed fingers together and began to tell.

"Two years ago, we had great difficulty with one of your predecessors, Professor Quirrell. He was a hidden follower of Voldemort and went so far as to share even his body with his weakened master. Which meant that Voldemort spent a school year hiding under the school roof."

Remus felt his mouth open in horror. He knew that Albus had never believed in Voldemort's ultimate downfall; he remembered how he had sworn the Order of the Phoenix that the darkest wizard of all time would return one day. But hearing about such a thing was a different matter entirely. Dumbledore told him to be silent. Then he went on.

"Quirell tried to steal the Philosopher's Stone to bring Lord Voldemort back to life and, of course, to get Harry out of the way. I suspected him from the beginning, but I had no proof. So I set Professor Snape on him. Without his efforts, Quirell's plan to kill Harry quietly might never have been thwarted. Severus risked being attacked himself, even inflicting a serious knee injury that lasted for weeks. And all in order to protect the school and Harry."

"He was protecting Harry?!", slipped it out of Remus mouth. Another wave of surprise seized him. So far he had got the impression that Severus hated the son as much as the father.

"Yes, he did, Remus," confirmed Dumbledore, "he too has my absolute tr-"

A sudden crackling in the fireplace made them both attentive. The flames turned green, the portrait of the golden curly lady above the mantel announced a visitor. But Remus no longer heard her announcement. Already the man stepped into the room, spreading soot on the carpet.

"You were right, Dumbledore," he shouted while still walking, "The Department of Magical Transportation is holding correspondence with the-"

When he saw Remus, he broke off. His black eyes darkened, contracted into small slits like the embrasures of a castle. _Speaking of the devil_ , Remus thought. Dumbledore stood up.

"Severus!," he cried in amazement.

The person addressed did not respond. Scornfully, he glided his gaze over Remus, eyeing him piercingly. Then he spotted the newspaper on his desk, skimmed the headlines. Suddenly he looked back at Remus, directly into his eyes. A rain of deadly bullets came down from the embrasures, while the teeth clenched tighter together and seemed to hold back a rumble. Severus didn't say a word and yet Remus did not doubt: he had understood the meaning of this scene down to the last detail.

"I didn't expect you to come to see me so quickly in the principal's office," Dumbledore interrupted the silent war between them with a raised voice.

Severus looked up.

"I thought after our conversation at noon today you would be interested in an immediate report on my _out-of-town appointment_ ," he replied soundlessly, "But it seems to me that I am disturbing. You have _guests_ ".

"For my part, I too have been going over the correspondence again in the last few hours," Dumbledore explained, "Professor Lupin came up only to clarify a _small matter_ that needed to be settled quickly.

He gave Remus a warning glance over the edges of the crescent glasses. But Remus had already begun to fold the newspaper before the hint.

"Yes," he replied hastily, "Our short conversation helped me a lot. Thank you very much for your time, Director".

As courtesy demanded, he said goodbye to the two of them and went to the door. On the threshold, Dumbledore called him back.

"Oh, Remus?"

He turned. The principal had put on a stern face.

"Many years ago, I made Severus promise to keep silence about something concerning you," he explained meaningfully, "Not everyone in the castle knows about _the matter_ that brought you to me today. Therefore, I would ask you now to keep the matter to yourself."

"Of course, Dumbledore," Remus replied immediately, "Our conversation will never leave this room.

Under the stern glances of Snape, who had been looking at them critically the whole time, they nodded at each other. And Remus left.

It took a while for the words to settle, which were basically just a confirmation of the report in the Daily Prophet. And although Dumbledore considered Severus to have integrity, Remus still hesitated. What in Merlin's case was behind this? And had Severus really been so committed to James' son? Probably the doubts would not die until the last great mystery was solved.

On Friday afternoon, he set out to return Madam Pomfrey her empty medicine bottles.

"Ah Remus, my boy!", the healer greeted him as warmly as on his last visit to the infirmary. But back then he had hardly found time to talk to her. Not so today.

"Boy is good, Poppy. I am a man of thirty-three," he replied to her greeting and embraced her warmly.

"For me, you will always be the little boy I took care of every month," she replied promptly. Both smiled.

"And what's the problem today? Ah, I see: Pale skin, reddened eyes. Is the flu still not cured?"

Remus laughed.

"I'm fine, just a little tired out. I actually came up here to return something that doesn't belong to me," he pulled the vials out of his pocket and handed them to her, "Thank you. The Pepper Up Potion helped a lot".

The healer nodded and pointed towards a medicine pint.

"Put them in the closet over there," she instructed Remus and began to set up the beds again.

As he opened the squeaking metal door and saw the many colorful flacons with their shimmering powders, pastilles and waters, Remus thought of something. He might have promised Dumbledore to spread the cloak of silence over Severus' past. But if the colleague for potions had suffered a knee injury, Poppy must have treated him.And after that, only after that, he would inquire.

"I just ran into a tomcat in the hallway," Remus began to chat seemingly casually, "The poor man was limping. I think with the right treatment this wouldn't have happened. As you can hear, Professor Snape also had a knee injury two years ago, which has been well cured thanks to your knowledge.

"Oh, you must have misheard," Poppy answered soberly and shook up a pillow, "I have not treated Professor Snape in the past years. Not for a knee injury at least."

Remus turned around and felt sweat come down on his forehead.

"You didn't? You mean, that was just a rumor?"

"Although..."

The healer did not seem to listen to him. She had thoughtfully put her finger to her lips as if trying to remember.

"Professor Snape did indeed have a longstanding knee injury two years ago. As one heard afterwards, he took on a three-headed giant dog to protect the Philosopher's Stone. But it had been Argus who took care of him. He bought bandages and diptam from me. He did not want to be treated by me."

"Why is that?" Remus asked astonished.

"Because I would have put him in bed where he belonged! Heavens, just put some gauze on it and then walk around hoping it would be okay. Healing needs rest and time. But Severus... a terrible patient. Can't lie still and wait until everything is cured. He has to be tied down!"

She shook her head and Remus smiled dumbly inside. Then her last words went through his mind once more: terrible patient.

"Is Severus also a terrible colleague?" he asked spontaneously. Madam Pomfrey swayed her head.

"He's not a very friendly person," she replied as she moved on to the next bed, "taciturn, cynical, nobody you have a nice chat with. But he is competent and thoroughly reliable in his field. I have never had any trouble with him, which is more than can be said of Slughorn, who sometimes forgot a delivery date at his club meetings".

"And Dumbledore?", Remus carefully followed up.

"Oh, dear! You shouldn't talk badly about your superiors," complained Poppy, "but I would really prefer it if he would include the word strict bed rest in his vocabulary and harass my patients less often.

Remus laughed softly as he closed the locker.

"I actually meant more like Professor Snape's attitude towards him."

"Thoroughly loyal, I would think," the healer continued, moving a few bedpans into an adjacent room.

"They have their differences," her voice broke, "but when things get serious, he won't let anything get on the principal. When Dumbledore was given leave by the Ministry last year and some colleagues speculated whether the school board would replace him permanently, Severus rebuked them that they should be ashamed to give him up so quickly and that Dumbledore was a force to be reckoned with. He taught them all a pretty good lesson. But why do you care, Remus?"

Rubbing her hands against her apron, she returned and scrutinized him closely.

"Pure, um, curiosity," Remus replied embarrassed.

Madam Pomfrey seemed to swallow his white lie.

"Where did the chocolate go now," she murmured and looked around searchingly, "You never know with all these dementors!

Inconspicuously, Remus pulled a small dark chocolate bar out of his robe pocket, as he had always carried it with him since the attack in the Hogwarts Express, and placed it on one of the bedside tables before he casually said goodbye to the busy healer.

When he stepped to the wing door of the infirmary, it had begun to rain again. Showers washed the dirt from the windows that the storm had left there in the night. Beneath the constant trickle of drops on the windows, Remus felt his doubts being gradually washed away. Everything he had experienced in the last 48 hours indicated that his old enemy had indeed left his dark past behind. But one big question remained: What had made Severus renounce his old master? Meaningly, Remus looked out into the November gray, felt a cool draught around his legs. Just like when he had visited the house in Godric's Hollow days after the catastrophe. A strange thought, a vague suspicion came to his mind as he thought about who else but James the ruins had buried underneath. But he did not dare to believe that.


	18. A trip to Hogsmeade

November was covered in showers of freezing rain, which turned the farm into a skating rink for three days, inviting crowds of students to slide down. Then, as a group of first-graders laughingly tumbled on top of each other, the rain suddenly stopped and thick white flakes fell from the sky. Soon the roofs, towers and battlements were covered with a powdery white layer of icing and the first scents of gingerbread and pine greenery wafted through the corridors. No one seemed to think of Black's attempt to break into the Gryffindor Tower any more, and Remus had long since dispelled any thought of the disturbing past of a certain colleague among the parchment rolls, which were to be returned corrected before the Christmas vacations began. Severus also seemed to have lost interest in their dispute. He avoided Remus, put the Wolfsbane Potion back in the teachers' room. Every now and then, however, they met in the corridors and, of course, at dinner in the Great Hall. But the Potions Master had no more than a scowl on his face. Sometimes he seemed to Remus quite rushed. He often seemed to be out of the house, missed two weekly conferences, was late for meals or skipped them altogether. And one evening, when heavy rain clouds still hung over the castle, he even did not return to Hogwarts until well after midnight. They met at the portal when Remus could not find sleep and tried to find peace in a little walk through the nightly castle. Puddles of rain formed under his boots, drops ran down his clothes, which seemed to be protected with an impervius. With a grim expression he turned away hastily and hurried to the stairs. Not to the spiral staircase down to the dungeons, but to one of the direction-changing ones up to the higher floors. Remus had a vague idea where he was going and what it was all about. But he did not think about it any further. His limbs gradually reached the longed-for weight of the bed and the next morning was already lurking in the corner with a mountain of work that would last for days.

But Remus took a break at this one. It was a Saturday two weeks before Christmas and the world resembled a winter fairy tale. Ice flowers adorned the panes of the arched windows, smoke wafted from the chimneys up to the opaline sky and everywhere in the castle grounds there was white lightning and glitter. The dark cloudy winter sun had already passed its zenith when Remus finally changed the water of the last aquarium, threw on his moth-eaten winter cape and went to his desk to put the last letters into his shirt pocket. He glanced at the box with Ilaria's letter and as so often in the last weeks he felt a little weak. He had not yet done his duty. But the time was simply not right. In all the stress of the pre-Christmas season he just couldn't find the peace for the right words. It had all been so long ago, there was so much else to do, and if he were to stand here for much longer, the dawn would fall on him. So Remus set out on his way.

Icy, yet refreshing air, which did not smell of ink or parchment, struck him as he descended from the Owlery, leaving the portal behind him. The cold changed his breath to mist and for the first time in days he felt truly free and relaxed. But his goal was not the castle grounds. That afternoon, he wanted to go down to Hogsmeade, do a few things and pay a visit to the Three Broomsticks, which he hadn't set foot in for almost a month. Soon Remus had reached the small village and began to stroll a little through the streets. So he replenished his chocolate stock at Honeydukes, looked at the display of Zonko's Joke Shop with a nostalgic indulgence and made a small detour to the Shrieking Shack, from where he returned with a head full of stirred up memories and a heart full of gratitude for the Wolfsbane Potion. As he closed the store door of Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop, where he had just purchased a pretty silver quill and was just about to take a look at this self-correcting white peacock feather whose metal tip glistened in the winter sun, Remus realized that he was not alone in the village.

"Hey, Professor Lupin," someone shouted to him across the alley. But the voice did not belong to any student. Quickly Remus packed away his new favorite writing utensil, turned around and discovered Pomona Sprout and Filius Flitwick, who were pointing at him, swaying slightly and laughing heartily. They came from the direction of the forest, hooked together and their cheeks glowed red in the cold. Only when they reached him did Remus realize that just above the ground behind Flitwick was a whole web of fairies.

"A lovely day for a trip, isn't it?" squealed the little professor and let it sink to the ground for a moment. The fairies were busy cleaning their wings and combing their hair. Remus still watched their goings-on as he agreed with a quiet "Yes, the day is really beautiful". Then he tore his eyes away from the fairies.

" You were in the woods?, he asked and looked Flitwick in the face. His colleague smiled.

"I thought a little decoration would look good in the classroom. Christmas is the best time of year!"

A laugh cut his words. Professor Sprout waved a bouquet of mistletoe in her hand.

"Not only in the classroom," she remarked amusedly, "also in front of it.

Flitwick looked up at her.

"My dear Pomona," he explained seriously, but in his eyes it glittered, "I would of course like to meet you outside my classroom at any time.

"You old charmer," she replied, winking at him and turning to Remus again, "We were just going to drop by for a quick jump into the Three Broomsticks and then back to the castle, hopefully without incident this time.

"Incidents?", he asked alarmed and all the repressed thoughts shot to the surface again. Since the night of Helloween, the word had become a warning signal to him.

Professor Flitwick cleared his throat and when he answered, his voice sounded far less cheerful: "Unfortunately, we had a small encounter with three dementors on the way to the forest. Quite a drudgery. When I think of the students..."

Prossefor Sprout looked up to Hogwarts, which was only visible as a distant outline on the mountains above the rooftops.

"Yes," she added thoughtfully, "They are becoming more and more restless, more and more hungry. I don't want to know what next week will be like. Hopefully we won't have another misfortune in store for us."

Remus frowned.

"Next week?", he asked in surprise, "What's next week?"

Professor Flitwick gave him a look as if he had misheard.

"But Professor Lupin, weren't you at that conference? The second school trip to Hogsmeade was set for next Saturday!"

Remus stared at him with irritation.

"I must have missed that," he confessed truthfully and watched Flitwick's forehead curl.

"Anyway," Professor Sprout took the floor and rubbed her gloved hands, "It's getting cold out here. We should hurry and warm ourselves up with a hot glass of mead. Perhaps you would care to join us, Professor Lupin?"

Remus looked over at her, smiled and thankfully declined. He had intended to visit the Three Broomsticks. But here, he had the feeling he'd gotten into something very private. Rarely had he seen the professors of Charms and Herbology so exuberant and he did not want to disturb the cosy togetherness by accepting a courtesy offer. So he said goodbye to the two of them and left in the other direction.

Hogsmeade trip. The keyword triggered a lot, brought buried memories back to light. The last time the students had visited the village was on that unfortunate day on the evening of which Sirius had broken into the castle. About the spectacular events, Remus had almost forgotten the afternoon before. But now it was clear in his eyes again. Someone, had it been McGonagall, had apparently wisely denied Harry participation. At least Remus thought so. He had not asked him, but the boy's face had spoken volumes after Remus had invited him for a cup of tea. Somewhere he felt sorry for Harry. He knew only too well what it meant to be separated from his friends while they were having a good time. Four months had passed since the summer. Four months in which every trace of Sirius was missing. Would his tutor let Harry go this time? Remus himself was not quite sure about that. But maybe, if Harry had some kind of escort? For a moment he imagined himself wandering through the village with James' son and his friends, showing them all the stores and spots where they had once filled their pockets as boys. It would certainly be a fun afternoon.

Then Remus chased away his daydream and looked around. It was already starting to darken and thick snowfall obscured the view. Nevertheless, he could easily see where he was. The loud shouting coming from every crack in the building in front of him spoke volumes. His feet had led him directly to the post office. Through the snow veil his gaze fell on a stand with Daily Prophets. Remus pondered for a moment. If this thought was to become more than a daydream, he could only offer himself as an escort in good conscience if there was no disturbing news from Sirius. His own copy had unfortunately fallen victim to a flock of pixies in the morning, who had somehow managed to escape the cage. They had completely destroyed it before Remus could read it, and so he began this Saturday in blissful ignorance. This condition had to be changed. Without hesitation he took one of the newspapers out of the stand and entered the post office. Back in the snow he felt the cold in his limbs and the trembling aroused in harmony with his growling stomach the desire to stop somewhere. Madam Puddifoots Cafe was the closest and so Remus soon found himself threatened by waves of ruffles in front of a hot chocolate and a piece of cheesecake. While the cup was still steaming, he defoliated the Daily Prophet and began reading the articles. But neither in the big headlines nor in the small marginal notes did he find a clue to the whereabouts of his old friend. In general, the Daily Prophet today was more of a sleep-inducing read. The Weird Sisters were on a charity tour for the St. Mungo's and had a gigantic opening concert; Mr. Mullpepper's Apothecary had made a small profit due to miscalculations in the last half year and now advertised with a Christmas offer of exclusive goods and a certain Alexiel Damian Stargazer had spiced up Sleekeazy's traditional product a little bit and now sold hair gel which made the mane glitter in all rainbow colors. Remus yawned. Pre-Christmas seemed to be off season. Tired, he slammed the newspaper again. But that was the plan. Tonight he would visit Professor McGonagall and offer himself as an escort. With this thought in mind, he stuck his fork into his piece of cake and enjoyed the sweet anticipation of doing James and his son a big favor.


	19. Hard lessons

Darkness had already fallen over Scotland when Remus returned to the castle, just in time to have one last bite of dinner before the goblets and plates disappeared from the table. Professor McGonagall was not sitting at table when he entered the Great Hall. He suspected that she had already eaten and decided to wait one more hour of decency before he would make his proposal to her. Around the castle towers the north winds howled and snowdrifts buried the arched windows under white flakes. The roof drew a winter dream. When Remus stepped out into the entrance hall shortly before the night's rest, he discovered the notice board for the Hogsmeade trip and wondered again how this could have escaped his notice. Last groups of people streamed out of the Great Hall and when the bell struck nine, he set off.

The corridors were now deserted and ghostly before him as he reached the office of the Head of Gryffindor. Bravely he struck the brass beater on the wood and waited. Ten seconds, twenty seconds, one minute. No one opened up. Was she perhaps in the library? Or in the teachers' room? Remus was still thinking about the situation when he remembered that he hadn't seen McGonagall at lunch either. He still frowned in amazement as he regained consciousness in the dark. _‚Not this weekend, Poppy,'_ she explained in the teachers' room on Wednesday, _'My cousin invited me to Bristol. She has tickets for the Holyhead Harpies' match_. And he grabbed his forehead. How with Merlin's beard could he be so absent-minded today? Well, standing around here wouldn't help. And Monday was another day. Disappointed, Remus stepped back into the corridor and disappeared into a gloomy connecting corridor, a shortcut to his office.

His wand light just tore some of the portraits from their sleep, who were complaining loudly when he suddenly rose to attention. Were there steps? Without apologizing to the complaining paintings, Remus ran down the hallway, pushed the curtain aside and curiously peeked around the corner. In the secluded corridor leading up to the stairs to the Owlery, Albus came towards him.

"Good evening, Professor Dumbledore," Remus greeted the principal friendly, who did not notice him between the busts at first, but then smiled warmly.

"Professor Lupin! Still out so late?"

"I had a little something to do," Remus explained and finally stepped out into the hallway.

Dumbledore nodded and looked into the distance for a moment, where the hallway ended in the large stairwell.

"Yes, sometimes the work doesn't know when to stop," he casually replied. Then he turned back to Remus and looked him firmly in the eye, "Have a good evening, Remus, and a restful night. See you tomorrow at the breakfast table".

"Yes, see you tomorrow, professor," replied Remus Albus' farewell words and was already ready to leave for home when suddenly something occurred to him. What if it wasn't McGongall who had imposed the ban, but the higher authority? Dumbledore must have been just as concerned for Harry's protection.

"Oh, Headmaster" Remus shouted after the principal, who had preceded him in the meantime and now turned back to him. Something unfamiliarly hurried lay in his movement. Hastily Remus ran down the hall to him.

"Can I talk to you for a moment?"

Dumbledore sighed softly. "I won't conceal it from you, Remus, this is not the time. I'm expecting an important guest at any moment."

"Important guest? At this hour?!" Remus was amazed.

"Severus is out of the house on my behalf", Albus explained succinctly, "But if it's enough for you, I'll gladly lend you my ear on the way to my office".

Remus asked no further questions. He accepted the offer and soon walked next to the principal to the stairs.

"It's about Harry again," he began to make his request, and since Albus did not reply, he immediately continued, "About the trip to Hogsmeade. I can understand that under the circumstances it might be best for the boy to keep him in the castle. But despite all the concerns for his safety, we must not forget what it means for a thirteen year old to be locked up.

Now Dumbledore stopped, frowned skeptically and turned to him.

"Remus," he started.

But Remus didn't want to be interrupted, only became more energetic.

"Harry is not happy. He was in my office on Halloween afternoon and even though he didn't say a word about it, his disappointment was obvious. I have a good relationship with him and Sirius has not been seen for months. If I would offer myself as escort, then anyway-"

"-Remus!"

Dumbledore's word of authority cut his speech more violently than Remus had expected. Then the principal lowered his voice and struck a mild tone.

"I see your point. But whoever told you I forbade Harry to go to Hogsmeade, you were mistaken."

Remus stared at him in surprise.

"Mistaken?"

"Yes," confirmed Dumbledore, "Harry's aunt and uncle, Petunia and Vernon Dursley, did not sign the consent form. Minerva told me about it. Although I welcome your proposal, my hands are tied. As much freedom as I enjoy as director, the school board is very strict in this respect. I am sorry."

Remus lowered his gaze, looked at the marble floor for a split second. In the meantime, they had left the stairs behind them and hit the hallway on the third floor. After a pause, Dumbledore took a deep breath.

"Perhaps, if the danger was not so great, Cornelius would turn a blind eye. But under the circumstances... maybe it's best for Harry. Let's hope Sirius Black reveals himself soon. I wonder how he managed to escape Hogwarts' school bans."

Remus listened and an icy shadow fell on his heart. Perhaps he knew an answer. But the sentimental attachment to old promises sealed his lips.

"Then I'm sorry to have disturbed you, Headmaster," he just closed after a sigh and was about to turn around. Then suddenly a shout sounded behind them.

"DUMBLEDORE!", a familiar voice sounded across the staircase and someone slowly came up the steps to them. When this someone reached them, Remus had a feeling of déjà-vu. Angrily, Snape's black eyes pierced him. But his old enemy didn't stop at punishing him with glances for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Trembling, he grabbed the railing, folded briefly and pulled his face into a distorted, painful expression.

"Severus? Is everything all right?!", Dumbledore shouted alarmed.

"I'm fine," gasped Snape, "There was a small incident. Selfia and Roger McNair, his third cousin and their son, noticed I had been away at the diner for a long time and decided to check on me. It took a little _diplomacy_ to end the situation quietly."

Remus knew that the time had long since come to say goodbye to Dumbledore in a firm voice and to make his way to his office quickly. But he could not turn his eyes away from Severus. A little diplomacy?! His colleague rather gave the impression that he had cast at least two shock spells in a row. Then Poppy's remarks about the difficult patient came back to his mind.

"You should go to the infirmary," Remus mingled in the conversation and meant well at that moment. But Severus did not pay any attention to him. He looked up at Dumbledore, who glanced briefly from one to the other with a serious expression.

"Did everything else go according to plan," said the principal.

Severus nodded and pulled a document bag from the pocket of his travel cape, which he handed to Dumbledore.

"There was no evidence of Black's lodgings in the Manor. Not even in the secret chamber under the salon. But in his home office he did indeed keep some very interesting documents hidden. Correspondence with former suspects, probably not very legit internal affairs of the school board. These are the copies. I think you'll be able to do more with them than I can."

"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore replied as he took the document folder, "Let's hope that with your help, worse things can be prevented and Black will never set foot over this threshold again. I think--"

He seemed to want to say something else. But at that moment Snape cleared his throat.

"-I have changed the memories of the McNairs, Headmaster" he blurted out, "but I am sure my goings-on did not go unnoticed. After such an intense search of his private life, it was bound to be noticed at some point. This could be the last time, Dumbledore. If he does get wind of it, he will drop me like a bottle of scalding potion. Besides, I expect he will spin some nasty little intrigues against me. Even though he never gets his own fingers dirty, Lucius is not squeamish in this respect. And he has his means. You remember what he used an untroubled first-grader for last year?"

Remus, who had listened to the exchange of words with silent interest since his throw-in, was suddenly electrified.

"Lucius? Lucius Malfoy?!", it slipped out of his mouth. He could not believe his ears. "But I thought you were best friends?At least you were in school days."

It was true. Or rather it always seemed as if Severus wished it so. Lucius Malfoy had resembled a planet that the grubby boy from Slytherin had orbited like a satellite. Until Malfoy had left school after their third year. But the way his son Draco raved about his teacher had left Remus in little doubt that this relationship still existed and that Lucius was the last person Severus would betray. Until this day. Until this second. Finally, for the first time since he had rushed up the stairs, Severus turned to him. A glow of mockery, of gloating lay in the triumphant black eyes.

"To do the right thing demands its price, Lupin," he sneered, and his voice resembled a needle whose fine point was dipped in poison, "Sometimes the price of friendship, too.

Then, jerkily, he turned back to Dumbledore.

"That will be all for today, Principal, can I go?"

Dumbledore nodded hesitantly. Without another word, just a brief gesture of reply, the Potions Master turned around and went back down the stairs.

Remus by no means escaped the worried look Albus threw at his Potions teacher as he staggered down the stairs, a little safer than when he collapsed at the banister, but still clearly marked.

"Severus," he finally shouted after him as the darkness of the staircase had almost swallowed Snape's figure, "Why don't you take Remus' advice and let Poppy take care of you! She's usually still in the duty room at this hour."

A movement of the head in the gallery one floor below, a grim look, a quiet gnash of teeth and the Potions Master disappeared in the blackness of a direction-changing staircase without even looking at the turnoff to the Hospital Wing.

For a moment, the principal and defense teacher stood silently on the landing, each absorbed in his thoughts. Then Remus apologized to his superior and set off. But not up to the higher floors to his office, but down into the depths like driftwood attracted by a whirlpool. The encounter with Severus had burned itself deep into his head, leaving him dazed and stunned. But unlike for Albus Dumbledore, it was not the idea of what Severus might have suffered that affected him so much. Anyone who had fought in the Order of the Phoenix knew only too well how to face death and willingly accept this danger. Against some of the battles that had been fought in this war, a duel at Malfoy Manor might even be a cinch. No, it was the words with which Snape had thought of him that got under Remus' skin. If what Severus alluded to was true; if what Albus had told Remus about him a month before was true, then his old enemy had shown a very different kind of courage. A courage that made Remus looklike a compkete fool.

_To sacrifice a friendship to do the right thing..._

_To stand against friends when they act wrong..._

Remus hardly felt his knees anymore. They had softened under the constant pain of his conscience, which lay like a stone in his stomach. The tip, in Severus' words, was a graze shot, hitting its target only mildly. But his head hurt. Something inside seemed broken. Remus felt the shards of his view of the world falling to the ground clinking. Without batting an eyelid, Severus had risked his oldest friendship to ban Sirius.And he, Remus, had not even managed to confess to Dumbledore something that had happened years before. He had kept silent, as he had done in his school days, in order not to get Sirius into trouble.

A thousand thoughts went through Remus' mind, a thousand memories in flying changes, while his feet followed the spiral of stairs deeper and deeper into the abyss. He had pitied Severus, felt guilty towards him, and in the end had also harbored disgust and distrust towards him. But admiration? No, admiration had never belonged to the repertoire of emotions that Severus triggered in him. But it was exactly what he felt now. Not just surprise, not just hurt. He was deeply impressed! Which person had really become his enemy from his school days? The day when he wanted to talk to Severus, Remus was back in his mind. And only now he realized how ridiculous and miserable this attempt had been. Oh yes, he had assured Severus that he knew about his pain; that he knew what injustice his friends had done to him, but that this had never been his intention. But he had not made the most decisive of all confessions. The confession that now drove him on like a riding crop.

In the meantime he had reached the office halfway up the spiral staircase, knocked. Unlike on his last visit, this time there was an immediate rumbling sound. The next moment the door was ripped open. The semi-darkness of a single sparkle revealed shadowy potion bottles and a gauze bandage on the desk in the background. But that was not what bound Remus' gaze. Severus' pale face in front of him immediately took on the color of fermenting milk when the black eyes caught sight of him and flashed angrily.

"What are _you_ doing here?!", he hissed.

With the feeling of having experienced all this before, Remus answered: "To express my thanks to you!

The hinges creaked. The gap became narrower. His counterpart was about to let him stand there in cold blood without a reply. But like last time, Remus was quicker. Blanzingly fast the wand lay in his hand.

"No Severus, hear me," he gasped hastily as the door jumped out of the lock through his mute Alohomora, "This time it's not a rotten trick. I mean it. What you did for Harry today was really... brave. I never expected you to stand up to Lucius Malfoy."

Severus' eyes darkened even more. Remus almost thought he could hear his thoughts:

_What do you know about who I am. What do you know about my life to presume to judge what I am and what I am not._

"I, on the other hand...", Remus continued hastily and faltered. With a clearing he turned his gaze away, let him wander down the stairs into the darkness of the dungeons to avoid the piercing, black eyes at the next words, "I, on the other hand, I am a coward.“


	20. The genuflection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello together and a ver merry christmas to you all! Yes, it is the 25th of December, in the middle of the holidays and this story is finally updated again. I know I've been neglecting it a bit lately. The last weeks I was pretty busy in real life for it's christmas season and well, you know. But now I'm back and Santa is bringing you a whopping three chapters! Three chapters that definitely want to be published in 2020. When you read them, you will understand why. Behind the scenes, a lot has happened, too. I'm happy to announce that Cunegonde will be editing my translations from now on. A big thank you at this point, Cunegonde
> 
> Well, in the future you'll see less of the wonderful nonsense that Deepl and I create while translating. The following chapters, however, have not yet been edited. Therefore I don't guarantee for proper English. Nevertheless, I wish you a lot of fun. Great things are coming...

It was spoken. When Remus looked up again, Severus' expression had changed. Surprise was now on his face.

"Your unspoken accusation on the stairs is true," Remus continued, his voice rough with the bitterness of self-accusation, "The last time I came to see you down here, I talked a lot about Sirius and James and Peter. But it's not about them. It's about me. I did the wrong thing. I didn't want to pay the price of friendship. I've looked the other way all these years and kept quiet when I should have stood up and defended you. What happened in the past is not their fault. It is mine. I've been a coward and I guess I deserve to have you despise me".

"No, I'm not here to ask you to apologize," he added hastily as a barely noticeable eyebrow twitched in his counterpart's previously motionless face, "Things happened. I can't undo them even if I wish I could. And I see that I cannot expect forgiveness from you. I just wanted you to know that I appreciate what you did and that I took your hint."

For a moment Severus just stared at him, apparently speechless. Remus feared he was about to launch into another sneering rant. But the Potions Master remained silent.

"Well, that's all," Remus finally broke the silence, took another deep breath, and turned to leave. But then, at last, Severus stirred.

"What about Black?" he asked, neither cold nor warm, completely toneless.

Remus looked at him in wonder.

"What should be the matter with him?"

"Someone must have let him into the castle, Lupin," he replied, and Remus realized. The words hit him. Anger welled up. His voice gained sharpness as he caught his counterpart's eye and prepared to retort.

"You really still believe that I support him? That I'm on his side?! By Merlin, Severus, he betrayed and murdered my best friends!"

Again, his old enemy did not answer, seeming to appraise him. Remus let his anger escape in a shoved sigh that carried not only his anger at Severus, but also that at his own cowardice. At the same moment, he remembered something: his slight headache during his visit in September, the memories that suddenly welled up. He pulled himself up and looked his counterpart straight in the eye.

"If you don't believe me," he declared in a firm voice, "why don't you use Legilimency on me like you did before?"

Severus' features slipped for a split second. His face looked like that of a student who had been caught cheating. But in the very next blink it had regained its stoic expressionlessness. The eyes, however, darkened, scrutinizing Remus coolly as if his counterpart were freezing inside.

"Give me a break," Severus replied, pressed and so monotone that for a strange moment it reminded Remus of the beaded necklaces and prayers of those Muggles who had happened to cross his path on a mountain road during his travels as a harvester. Barely noticeably, his old enemy had taken a few steps back, clenched his hand around the doorknob, and was now glaring at him like a rat that had escaped into the hole and was taking one last look back at the cat.

"Give me a break" the words broke harshly from his lips again, "This whining for mercy is ridiculous! I will not be lulled by you. We've already settled at Hogwarts which side we're on. Wasn't guts the virtue of Gryffindors?! There is nothing that can make up for the past, Lupin. We are enemies to the grave!"

Remus stared at him. Stared at him as if he were lying in a nightmare and only slowly waking up from it. For a moment he pressed his hand against the cool brickwork, then suddenly he tore himself away and stood with folded arms in front of Severus, who opened his eyes in amazement. Anger, unbridled anger, surged up inside him with furious force, flushing back to the surface every hurt of the past months that he had carefully swallowed. But this time, there was no more remorse or pity to keep his emotions in check. It was enough! It was enough for good. Everything had its limits, and Severus had just crossed the line.

"Fine," Remus replied, surprised himself by the icy anger in his voice, "As you wish. I have tried in good faith to end our enmity. But I won't let you treat me like this! It was the last time I reached out to you. Don't expect me to take your side again in front of your colleagues or students. Don't expect anything more from me. This is my last word. Goodbye!"

Without wasting a second, he turned on his heel and entered the way back. He could feel Severus' eyes on the back of his neck and heard the muffled breath in which the Potions Master gasped washed-out words after him. But he didn't turn around, not until he had reached his office and closed the door behind him.

Such stubbornness! Never again would he grovel before Severus, Remus swore to himself. He wasn't going to throw himself in the dust just to be kicked deeper into it! If there was ever going to be peace, it would have to come from Severus. He had done his best, now enough was enough! Surely he would not play along with this ridiculous petty war, but he would not lift a finger in any other way. In the future, he would simply ignore the Potions Master. Period. Fleetingly, Remus' gaze passed over one of the cages in the darkness, which suddenly seemed to him like a metaphor for his self-mortification of the past months. His admiration for his colleague was completely gone. And yet Remus could not deny that the last hour had changed his view of his old enemy. Behind that cool, forbidding facade, there was more than met the eye! Even his anger, finally broken from the chains, could not wipe away this realization.

When he reached his bedroom and the anger had gone out again, snowflakes gathered on the bars of the windows. Quiet it was up here, and cold. Cautiously, Remus crept over to the table where the kerosene lamp stood and lit it. When the light came on, the glow fell on an object he had almost forgotten. Frowning, he traced with his eyes the mosaics of different woods: Oak, copper beech, linden. Then he smiled agonizedly and felt melancholy flicker up inside him. No, it was certainly no coincidence that his attention was now drawn back to the wooden box in which Ilaria's letter awaited a reply. Now that an old enemy had taught him a lesson in courage, the evil outcome of this evening notwithstanding. Remus thought back to the many moments when he had retrieved the letter and yet put it back. _Not the right time, just no concentration for the right words, too much work, so long ago_. Oh yes, he had come up with a nice arsenal of excuses, all of which sounded so plausible and reasonable, exempting him from the task at will. But the reality was: he was scared. After twenty-eight years, during which the full moon had now come to rule his life, he was still afraid to reveal the truth about himself. To go the way that this revelation inevitably meant: contempt, rejection, disgust and fear in the eyes of the other. But what did it mean to forfeit the affection of a woman one had known for two weeks against the loss of a friendship since youth? This loss, which he himself knew so painfully well? Perhaps Severus wasn't so wrong after all. His hesitation was ridiculous in light of what the Potions Master had done. Where was his Riddikulus Charm now, the one he had taught Harry's class. Wasn't he lying to himself?

For a split second Remus looked at the box. Then he jerked the chair back, settled down regardless of the icy seat, and vigorously tugged out his writing utensil. He had had enough of excuses; of the ghosts of the boggarts; of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor who demanded courage from students and even shrank from a piece of parchment. What a bitter, incorrigible cynic managed to do, he should have mastered by now. With Severus before his eyes; guided by the words that both struck and goaded him, Remus thrust the silver quill into the inkwell and wrote, feeling surprisingly comfortable.

Not so Severus. He stood on the threshold for a while, staring into the void where his hated colleague had disappeared without reacting to the hoarse "Stop!" he had called after him in reflex. Completely confused, he tried to comprehend what had just happened. His colleague's eyes still seemed to pierce him - that look in which Severus recognized for a second the wolf that lay dormant deep inside his counterpart. Never, not even in their school days, had he seen Remus Lupin so filled with cold rage. The werewolf reminded him a little of Dumbledore, who was difficult to ruffle. But if, woe betide you!

With a skeptical frown, Severus whirled around and stepped back into the office. A cold breeze brushed the back of his neck, mingling with the fuzzy feeling in his stomach. He couldn't even tell why he had put Lupin down like that. The words had simply burst out of him, slipping away like a Protego cast in reflex. Not even the question about Black had been intentional, except perhaps to cover his astonishment. In any case, Severus had believed in Lupin's complicity only for a short time, if at all, even in the fall. He had eyes in his head, mastered Legilimentary. He was not so blind as not to perceive that his old enemy spoke the truth when he denied any complicity. No, if he had spied on his colleague in November, it was for one reason: to find something compromising that would sell well to Dumbledore. The werewolf had begun to ally with the Potter lout, perhaps they had long since forged an alliance against him....

Or were they? Lost in thought, Severus stared at the gauze bandage on his desk. Coward - he couldn't get the word out of his head, like so many things he thought he would hear. For a moment, it seemed as if Albus' speeches were buzzing around him; speeches about good intentions, forgiveness, peace of mind. And a vague inkling whispered to Severus that something had just gone terribly wrong. But then he squinted his eyes and fought back the doubt doggedly. No, no, and no again! Had the werewolf just confessed to the truth: The Wizengamot also did not give an acquittal on a guilty plea! And hadn't Lupin himself spoken clear words? It was right to push the penitent from his threshold. Severus would not care any more about this confession, would not rehash the matter, would lock it up in the gray cloak of oblivion. That was what Severus swore to himself, here in this second with the shadows as his witnesses.

With a soft creak equal to a suppressed contradiction, the door fell shut behind him. Severus did not notice that an icy breeze had blown into the room from under the door slit. A breeze as if of something evil, dark, invisible, which was slowly gathering around the lock and silently approaching him....


	21. The horror of Christmas

"Put it on the desk and go!"

The voice broke harshly against the glass. With no flinch, the speaker indicated that he still harbored the intention of turning toward the room. Severus eyed his colleague's back at the window, then took the cup to the appointed place and wordlessly left the room. Only when the January chill in the corridor dispelled the last warmth of the well-tempered office did the indifference break and he stopped to glance back, frowning. Then, with an abrupt jerk of his head, however, he tore himself away and, equal to his steps, directed his eyes purposefully down the silent corridor, which was still adorned with drying pine greenery.

 _Congratulations,_ Severus murmured to himself in his mind, not knowing whether he meant it sincerely or sarcastically. Three weeks had passed since the embarrassing spectacle outside his office door, and those brief words had been the longest sentence his colleague had exchanged with him since then. It seemed Severus had finally achieved what he had been working toward for months: tearing the mask of innocence from Lupin's wolf's face; reaping the rejection he had so carefully sown in anticipation of the backlash; and resetting their relationship to a state of war. But where grim joy should have spread at his triumph, he felt only a black hole gaping in his chest. A hole that grew - more and more with every cold look, with every failed word.

Even if he only grudgingly admitted it to himself: this new roughness did not taste good to him, not at all. For a brief, faint moment, Severus longed to see his students, who had turned into model students at Lupin's command. He didn't like being icy coldly kicked out the door and treated like air. If he could at least lure the werewolf out of his reserve, incite him to furious misdeeds and then take revenge for it! But the thing did not work in such a way. Lupin's war tactics was called ignorance. Only at that ghastly Christmas party in the staff room, where duty demanded being locked together for two hours in a room full of tooth-aching bliss, had his colleague's eyes wandered to him now and then as Severus sat scowling at his seat, spurning every hot mead, ginger bread, and candy cane. The stares had sent him running faster than any purred christmas carol. 

Because those looks touched on something. Something that made Severus even more uncomfortable than the stoic ignorance. He had not yet broken his vow to himself. But steadfastness demanded its price. As much as Severus resisted it, his old enemy's confession of guilt had left its mark. Something Severus thought he had killed off long ago had risen from the dead: The gnawing. The gnawing that had held him in suspense before Halloween and now haunted him again. Tormentingly, it poked its teeth into his nerves, buzzing its familiar tune: why had the werewolf made such a confession before him? _Why...why...why?_ Feverishly, Severus searched for the poison to banish the gnawing back to the realm of the dead. 

But everything he heard showed Lupin to be exactly the nice guy he presented himself to be. Not a bad word against Severus, not the slightest intrigue. Only the stoic ignorance that only made everything worse. He wanted, wanted, wanted this war, wanted to finally enjoy his well-deserved revenge!But one who had a clean slate could not be judged... Again Severus thought of the whispers of Dumbledore, who was still telling him to change his mind about Lupin and - just now - to seek a talk after he had become aware of her silence. But Severus would certainly not do that. The sting was too deep.There were deeds that could not be made up for with lip service, no matter how sincere Lupin's words might be. Almost unforgivable deeds that demanded greater sacrifices to atone for. And Lupin, the self-confessed coward, would certainly not pay such a price.At the deepest core, despite the superficial greatness, he was still James Potter's good friend. Apart from the fact that Severus and he had fallen out with each other anyway. Finally, down here in the dungeon.

Cursing softly, Severus pushed open the door to his office. The scent of cinnamon and cardamom that drifted into his rooms from the kitchen every year during the Christmas vacations taunted his delicate nose as he entered. No light burned in the dungeon. Darkness lurked in the corners, joined by cold loneliness. For a moment, Severus' thoughts slipped away, wandering back to days long past. Painfully, he thought of Lily kissing him on the cheek under a sprig of mistletoe. And painfully, he thought of his father beating him in front of the Christmas tree.Displeased, he trudged to the lab, where he kept the wolfbane kettle warm over a small flame as he had the two nights before, stretching his tine over the lukewarm brew and burying his displeasure in a pile of work.

When he looked up again, two more days had passed. In fact, during that time he had slept; eaten; and gone about his work. But the activities had flowed into each other in such a way that he had hardly noticed the breaks. Now, late in the afternoon of the fourth of January, as he relegated the kettle to the shelf for a month, he felt drained. The heat in the stuffy lab was too oppressive. Moreover, the ghosts of the past and Lupin's ignorance still haunted him. Once again, his little world became too confining and he longed for fresh, clear air and a glass of firewiskey to drown his sorrows. So after cleaning up, his path led him not over to the library room, but into the hallway, where he took his travel cape and scarf off the hook.

A harsh, inhospitable weather greeted him as he stepped out into the castle grounds, over which night had fallen in the meantime. Stiff gusts of wind whistled around his ears, frozen snowflakes trickled from the snow-covered trees, and the starry, full-moon sky was reflected in the surface of the freezing lake.But as he passed the archway with the hog statues and entered the country road into the village, Severus suddenly felt a cold breeze around him that could not be the work of winter alone. But as he passed the archway with the boar statues and entered the country road into the village, Severus suddenly felt a cold breeze around him that could not be the work of winter alone. It was the kind of cold that penetrated deep into one's heart and robbed one of any warm thoughts. Alarmed, Severus was already fumbling for his wand, searching his memories for Lily and taking a step faster. A soft rattling nearby was the final proof. The Dementors were hot on his heels. But then as the road took the next bend, the cold breeze dissipated, releasing Severus from its clammy grip, and he was once again just a man walking alone on a lonely road on a winter night. Why they had not attacked, he did not know. Maybe there just wasn't as much to take from him as there was from a house full of witches and wizards still drunk from the Christmas a week and a half past. Or maybe they had just lost the scent. Sometimes that happened. Without thinking further, he continued on his way.

The icicles hanging like threatening daggers from the gables and burying the rotten wooden sign with the hog's skull underneath told Severus that he had arrived.With a firm grip, he pulled open the door and stepped inside into the dim half-light and blue smoke of the Hog's Head Inn. The pub was only moderately crowded that day. In one corner a crowd of poker players crowded around the regulars' table, in another a fellow who looked as if his mother had been a troll was sipping a butterbeer. Many tables were empty, so Severus soon found a seat and ordered his first firewhiskey. A little later, the longed-for drowsiness slowly set in and all thoughts about Lily, Tobias and the unpleasant colleague gradually sank into the alcohol fog.Already a bit sluggish, Severus looked around the taproom, letting his gaze wander here and there, finding the poker players again and encountering the one or other boozer who had already had more alcohol than he had. At a table in a dark corner his view stuck all at once.Three sinister figures, of two of whom he could only make out their backs, had gathered around the table and were wildly discussing the objects lying on the tabletop between the butterbeer mugs. A few golden galleons and a dark velvet pouch changed hands.dodgy dealings weren't uncommon at the Hog's Head Inn. When the innkeeper looked away, goods of dubious origin were packed onto the tables, and from the scraps of words Severus perceived at a distance and through his alcohol-stunned senses, this crook also seemed to hawk his wares regularly. Usually Severus was not particularly interested in the haggling over stolen goods and cheap knock-offs, but in this case the small table party caught his attention, or rather, the hot stuff did. Those frosty black and red stones were Ashwinder eggs and the liquid in that tiny vial, was that acromantula poison? Potion ingredients of exquisite quality wandered from hand to hand. For an absent-minded moment, Severus seriously considered scraping together his last knuts and walking over. It wasn't just the Bubotubler pus on his supply shelf that could be stocked up. The third person at the table, a small, deeply hooded figure who was apparently hawking the stuff, seemed to grow nervous all at once. Again and again the hood turned scrutinizingly in his direction. The slender hands with the stained nails hastily collected the coins and shifted the remaining bags and cans, boxes and bottles into a basket. The chest, where the beginnings of a bosom could be seen under the fabric, rose and fell in rapid alternation. It almost seemed as if the woman was afraid, and Severus could make no sense of it, until the two others at the table rose and their gazes suddenly met. All at once Severus was wide awake, despite the alcohol, and anger burned like firewhiskey in his stomach. Suddenly he knew who the woman was and that she had betrayed him.

Immediately he jumped up and pursued the figure, which ran off at the same moment. He chased her through the taproom to outside the door, where she suddenly slipped on the slippery sidewalk, staggered, and fell backwards on a pile of snow. The hood slipped from her head, scattering the tangled chestnut-colored hair on the snow, and two fear-filled brown eyes gazed up into the wandlight.  
"So we meet again, Miss Jorkins," Severus murmured, stepping a little closer to her, "An unusual place for an apothecary's assistant to deliver an order. How long have you been stealing from Mr. Mullpepper? Since August?!"  
The young woman looked rushed, like a cornered animal. Her breathing was rapid and sweat beaded from her cold-reddened brow as she struggled to her feet.  
"Please, Professor Snape, don't betray me to the Aurors," she begged, "You don't know how he treats me. I didn't have a choice. But it's not for long. Just until my fiancé saves up enough, then we'll do-"

"-I'm not the scrap interested in your dodgy dealings," Severus interrupted her gruffly.  
Mullpepper was a crook himself, charging completely exorbitant prices and probably paying his staff a pittance. The fact that his assistant supplemented her household budget by petty theft was not his business. She would be exposed sooner or later anyway, if she was so stupid as to pocket exclusive goods. The pharmacy had already suffered losses, as the Daily Prophet reported, and probably Severus had just discovered the reason. But he was only interested in one thing.  
"I just want my money back. Five sickles and seven knuts extra for the express owl!" he harangued the young woman.  
Gullinera Jorkins looked up in irritation.  
"Jobberknoll feathers from fledglings," Severus concretized himself, "Surely you remember my pre-order that went missing in August purely by accident?!"  
Still resembling the look of a mooncalf, the silly thing nevertheless nodded like a well-behaved child.  
"Of-of course. My um purse is there in the... next to the basket," she stammered, and Severus turned to the things the fall had scattered across the snow. With one grip, he held the tattered red leather purse in his hands, removed the sum, and tossed the purse back to Gullinera Jorkins.  
"Thank you very much!" he murmured, turning on his heel and leaving the young woman to her fate.

The rest of the evening was drowned in firewhiskey. One glass after another, Severus drained and the world blurred before his eyes. Soon the lights of the candles danced with the haze of the cigars, the faces of the guests melted into colored dots, and the sounds and conversations into a monotonous murmur. Severus felt the heaviness of his eyelids, slumped in his chair, and night fell upon him.

He didn't know how early or late it was when a hand literally jerked him roughly from his sleep. He looked up and saw, under the rumbling of his stomach, the wavering face of the innkeeper above him.  
"We're closing!" the old man grumbled, shoving a bill under his nose. Severus couldn't read the amount, a terrible headache clouding his vision. He let the innkeeper count out the sum himself, including the tip, and was dismissed with a glass of water on the house. Outside it was already dawn. The moon was still in the sky, but it was only a matter of time before it would sink behind the horizon. Severus felt ghastly as he staggered out onto the country road. Despite the hours that must have passed since he nodded off at the Hog's Head Inn, the alcohol still raged through his body. Only by sheer force of will did he wrestle his stomach to keep its contents with him as long as he was still in the village. But halfway there, somewhere in the wilderness between rocks and forest, the booze took its toll. The retching already began as he crept into the trees.

Debilitated and still with a pounding headache, Severus dragged himself back along the path. The crowns of the tall trees swallowed the view of the dusky gray sky. Eerily, the branches groaned in the freshly rising north wind. Severus froze as a gust drove into his coat, lightly swirling his hair like a cold breeze on the back of his neck.  
"Lu-Lumos Maxima," he spoke almost still slurring his words as the dense undergrowth near the archway of Hogwarts took away the last of his vision. The light shone like a flare that had to be seen all the way to the castle. But it gave no warmth. Coldness flowed through Severus to the core. Involuntarily, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up and he began to freeze. But it was a shiver that gripped more than his body. With senses beyond his comprehension, he perceived something invisible. A subtle movement in the shadows of the trees; a hand that groped for his soul. Suddenly the world blurred. Memories rose like mist, laid as a foil over the present. Rubble and debris grew out of nothing. The collapsed house. Severus felt his heart beating, drumming, quivering. Red hair sprawled across the floorboards. Breathlessness. A rattling breath, close, too close broke the illusion. Drenched in sweat, Severus whirled around and wrenched his eyes open in horror. There they were, not one, not two, a whole squadron floating toward him in the black robes, reaching out their rotten hands for him. 

Dementors! Dementors everywhere! 

Severus' heart raced with panic. But he had to keep a cool head. Quickly closing his eyes to stop seeing the horror, he raced back through time in his mind. There it was, the playground. Spring flowers bloomed and the sun glittered like falling stars in her red hair. A bell-like laugh and every fiber of his body vibrated. There was only her. Like an angel she ran laughing in the light down the lush green meadow to the river and he was hers, only hers. All that he was was in her hands. A smile proclaimed paradise. Infinite hope in her green eyes. Then she grabbed his hand, sparks of fire tingling in her fingers, and pulled him to the swings. Like butterflies they flew side by side. Higher and higher through a thousand memories of a happy youth. Words, laughter, gestures, touches, the hand in his hair, and that one innocent, everlasting kiss on the cheek. Warmth, love, and happiness filled Severus, pulsed within him. He raised his hand and...

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

When he opened his eyes again, a doe burst from his wand. Five of the Dementors had taken flight. Three more dodged as Severus steered the Patronus toward them. But there were more, and the silver light was gradually dying. His headache pounded, the debris reappeared before him, and his own voice gasped its name tearfully. He wanted to sink to the ground. But he had no choice! _Pull yourself together, Severus, damn you!_ Again he closed his eyes. again he conjured up the memory of Lily with all his might. At another time, he would have been able to control the Dementors at any time. But the alcohol robbed him of all his strength.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" he cried miserably.

This time, only silver smoke escaped the wand. Four Dementors fled, but another five still held Severus surrounded. Desperation sprouted in him. In another angry attempt, he closed his eyes and called within himself for Lily. But only shadows appeared from the playground, which immediately dissipated and gave way to the sight of her corpse.

"NO!" cried Severus in anguish, "NO!"

He knew he was lost. His wand fell to the ground as a sudden howl, not from the wind, went through the forest. With a loud crash in the undergrowth, the figure of a huge wolf leapt from the castle wall in one bound. Teeth bared, eyes blazing, it set upon him and the Dementors. At that moment, the first rays of sunlight flashed through the sky. Still leaping and with a terrified howl, the wolf changed shape. Severus felt the patchworked cloak glide past him in a breeze, heard a human gasp as of someone gritting his teeth in terrible pain. He saw the dying full moon, saw the raised wand, saw the silvery mist, blurred by the alcohol haze and seemingly all at once. The Dementors rose, their cowls melting into the twilight. Then everything was black.


	22. turnaround

When Severus regained consciousness, at first he perceived nothing but the snout of an oversized ferret and a pair of black eyes glaring at him angrily.  
"Don't stare, ugly bat!" the animal insulted him, and he quickly closed his eyelids again. His skull still throbbed and a tremor went through his body. He froze as if bathed in ice, could hardly remember anything and was more exhausted than he should have been after a night of drinking. Just before drifting off to sleep, something second teased his senses: a warm haze on his face and the pervasive smell of cocoa.  
"Here, drink this. It's better like this at this time of year," a soft voice spoke to him. Once again, Severus opened his eyes and looked hazily into the face of Remus Lupin, who held out a steaming cup of viscous drinking chocolate to him.  
Dazed, Severus tried to sit up, feeling the weakness in every limb.  
"What has-"  
That was all he could bring himself to say. A sudden pain jolted through his temple, making him reach for his forehead in reflex. Lupin pushed him back with gentle force onto the couch at the side of the desk.  
"You've been through a Dementor attack and, if I'm not mistaken, a hangover. You should rest some more," he spoke to him.  
Without resistance, Severus let himself slide back, rubbed his pounding forehead, and set the hot chocolate down on a side table. A pleasant warmth invaded him in the room, but barely managed to thaw him. Dark fog wafted in his head, denser than the veils before his eyes. Only fragments of the past events returned to his consciousness like pieces of a puzzle that had yet to be put together. What had happened? Why was he here? Through the throbbing of his headache, Severus tried to sort out the images. There was the great archway to Hogwarts, the carriage road, dozens of Dementors, and _something else_.

All at once, Severus' pulse began to pick up again as the memories were accompanied by realization. He strode through the images as if in an unreal dream; he could not believe what he was seeing. And yet he knew that all of this had really happened. Other, older memories mingled in. It was not the first time. James Potter had done the same thing in another life. Out of pure self-interest, Severus grimly realized. And this.... No, this was different, completely different. Remus Lupin was not threatened with expulsion from Hogwarts, nor did any benefits beckon. On the contrary, he had risked his incognito. Even more, he had put himself in danger. And that was just to... Suddenly Severus felt dizzy, the barely absorbed warmth gave way again. Like rain, the certainty pelted him, making every inch of his skin tremble. Like a cold shower, it washed away for an instant all the hatred, anger, and contempt he had ever harbored for his colleague, leaving only sheer disbelief. Stunned, Severus looked up at the man sitting at the desk before him, bathed in a corona of morning light.

"You saved my life!" the words slipped from his lips.

Lupin didn't even seem to be listening to him. He had averted his eyes and was looking at a stack of letters on his desk.

"Actually, I wanted to take you to the hospital wing," he continued in a calm tone, "But the portrait of Wulpius Wundfinger, whom I quickly sent up to let Madam Pomfrey know, came back with the news that she was probably not in the house. So I had no choice but to get you here."

He gave Severus a quick sideways glance and a pained smile stole across his lips. Still Severus stared at him. The whole situation was overrunning his mind like the wheels of the school carriages the pebbles on the path. It was as if he could hear the clinking of broken glass somewhere in the distance, as if something was breaking in his mind and a wheel began to turn in his head. A wheel of a thousand questions.

"Why did you do that?" he heard his voice ring out without any action on his part.

Lupin frowned.

"Would you have preferred, then, that I had left you to the Dementors?" he asked coolly.

The quiet undertone of reproach made Severus nervous.

"No," he replied hastily, "It's just..."

He broke off, searching for words and not finding them. Hectically, he let his gaze roam the room, lingering on the Jarvey's cage.

"Get lost, ugly curmudgeon! Do you think anyone wants to see your visage! Get out of my sun, cynical asshole! You're stinking up the air, filthy..."

"Silencio!"

With a flick of his wand, Lupin had silenced the ferret. The anger that had just been flaring in Severus went out. Cold sweat beaded from his brow as he turned back to his counterpart. Leisurely, Lupin put his wand aside, still looking past Severus.

"I often lie awake on _nights like this_ , watching the area," he began to tell, "There's a good view of the village and the roadway from up here. That's also how I saw your Lumos Maxima and the Dementors. I suspected it was you and immediately set off. No one else left the school yesterday via the sidewalk. Fortunately, there are some secret passages out of the castle. With my paws I can get the office door open, but not the big portal. And if I had waited to change back, any help might have been too late."

With another restrained smile, he turned to Severus. Then he caught sight of the cup on the side table.

"Drink, I didn't brew the chocolate for nothing!" he spoke sternly.

Wordlessly, Severus reached for the cup and downed his medicine. As expected, warmth flooded through him, externally and internally. Lupin's words, however, trickled down on him like the snowflakes outside the window. They barely touched his consciousness before melting away. The mill wheel in his head kept turning, hooking and grinding. There was one thing he didn't understand that was churning, drilling and gnawing inside him. And finally he found words.

"But why _for me_?" he gasped, "why after all that..."

He did not dare to continue; did not dare to say it. _This whining for mercy is ridiculous...we are enemies to the grave_ ,croaked his own voice in his head.

Remus Lupin stood up. On the horizon beyond the arched window, the morning light shone even brighter, illuminating the entire room. His face, however, had darkened.

"I can't say I have particularly pleasant memories of our last conversation," he replied coolly, carrying the cup away to a siteboard in another corner of the room, so that for a moment Severus could only see his back. "But that doesn't change the fact that I will always do my duty. And that is to rush to the aid of a colleague when I see that he is in danger."

Lupin turned back around. Then, suddenly, his features contorted. He tightened his arms and doubled over as if shaken by convulsions. Startled, Severus started up, wanting to grab him in reflex. But his rescuer fought him off.

"Be all right in a minute," he groaned.

Severus stared at him, distraught. Where had this seizure come from? Of course, the full moon! Werewolf transformations were very painful, no matter which way. Surely Lupin had brought him up with a spell, yet the walk and especially the fight must have been an ordeal for him. Downstairs, in his potion arsenal, he would have had the right antidote quickly at hand. But here he could only watch powerlessly.

"I think you'd better go now!" gasped Lupin with a pained expression as the cramps failed to subside and he now dragged himself to the couch.

Severus didn't take two calls. Driven by a surge not of his own volition, he nodded, half-conscious and half-dazed, then strode away. But halfway, before the cages, boxes and cartons robbed him of his sight, he paused once more and turned around. And what he said then was so unbelievable that he didn't trust his own voice and would have bet his soul just twelve hours ago that this would never happen.

"Thank you," it flitted across his lips.

Lupin looked up one last time. But then Severus twirled around and disappeared.

As the door slammed shut behind him and he stood alone in the seventh-floor hallway, he still had the feeling of being completely out of his mind. The corridor, the arched windows, the knight's armor and portraits, he saw all this every day, and yet things seemed to him like fragments from a strange dream.

_Lupin has saved your life... Lupin has saved your life... Lupin has saved your life_

Again and again the sentence flickered through his consciousness, never stopping like a prayer mill that started all over again when it reached the end. He tried to twist the sentence, to turn it around, to change the tone. But no matter what he did, this fact seemed as unreal as ever. Only his now unclouded memories Severus testified that it was true. Slowly, almost staggering, Severus left the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher's office behind him with no idea where he was going. His feet carried him on their own while his head struggled to grasp the facts. How could it be that Lupin, his enemy, had saved him! Groping for a blade of grass on shore, Severus searched within himself for the events of their school days; for his pain, his anger, his hatred. He also searched for excuses, for explanations that could portray Lupin's intervention as something other than a heroic act. But he found none of that. All memories, all feelings, all evasions and bendings of the truth seemed to be drowned in a dark wave. That which he would not have thought of even in a dream had become reality! Confused, Severus looked around, having no idea what to make of these surprising turns of events. He had left the familiar land and was moving on unfamiliar terrain. All these years, all these months, he had believed that he and Lupin stood on two sides of an insurmountable wall. Black and white, hot and cold, he here and James Potter's friends there. This wall was carved in stone, clad in titanium, secured with defensive towers and defensive spells. Nothing should have defeated it... but suddenly the wall was gone! Remus Lupin had saved his life and blown it up.

Silently, shame crept over Severus that it had come to this. But in the noise of surprise, its whisper quickly faded. Severus paused for a moment, stopped in the gallery in front of the staircase, and felt the cold breeze that came up from the lower floors like an icy breeze. Would he have acted the same way, had their roles been reversed? Would he have stormed out into the castle grounds? Or would he have drawn the curtains and pretended to see nothing? A shudder seized him. From the depths of his memory rose a memory of the last summer. A potions cauldron appeared in it and the sparsely suppressed desire to boil the contents into poison, to take revenge, to murder. Quickly Severus dispelled the vision. The direction-changing staircase clicked into place and he stepped onto the steps, but unable to shake off the icy feeling.

Soon the stairs came to a stop on the third floor. Severus entered the hallway and gazed thoughtfully down the corridor. Beyond the next bend lay the gargoyle guarding the entrance to the Headmaster's office. With the next blink of an eye, he knew: he had to go there! Albus was the only person who could bring a little order to his inner chaos. The old man's sense of his state of mind and his way of giving hidden advice was the medicine he desperately needed right now. Of course, Severus had no intention of telling him the real reason for his early visit. Talk, just talk, about trivia. Hadn't Potter been up to something again? Still pondering his excuse, Severus made his way. He soon passed the entrance and the spiral staircase without any problems. But when he tapped the griffin against the brass, nothing happened. No one stirred behind the door to the circular office, and it was not until the third knock that the only portrait in the stairwell awoke.  
"What's all the noise in here?!" the red-cheeked man in the curly wig remarked, yawning.  
"I'm here to see Professor Dumbledore, is he busy?" asked Severus hoarsely.  
"He is not in the house," replied the painting, lolling, "Left before dawn for the Irish coast with Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall. They wanted to see the unique sunrise that is announced for today there and then stop somewhere for breakfast. I don't think they'll be back before lunch."  
For a second Severus stared at the drowsy portrait with raised eyebrows. Then, wordlessly, he turned on his heel. Why now? Why was Albus abandoning him right now! But the grumbling didn't help. He had to clear this fog in his head by his own efforts, he had to find his own way to the saving shore in this storm of jumbled worldviews.

After a very short and very lonely breakfast in the Great Hall and a potion to counteract the aftermath of his drunkenness, Severus went about the only activity in the dungeon that had been proven to set him straight at any time: He lit the fire, put the cauldron on, and retrieved the Merlin Academy box from the shelf. Soon hours had passed, interrupted only by the meals Severus had the house elves bring to the office that day.

And yet, his antidote to any kind of stress seemed to fail him in this particular situation. No matter how many meditative circles Severus described with the stirring spoon, he could not quite manage to calm down. His thoughts spun away and away like the spoon handle. Again the confession on his threshold came to his mind, appeared to him now in a completely new light. There was one thing Severus had to admit, even if the pill left him with a nasty aftertaste: his colleague in wolf's pelt had never, in fact, not once during their entire time at school, raised a wand at him except to defend himself. While Black and Potter had gone at him and Pettigrew had followed the oh-so-wonderful spectacle with drooling looks, Lupin had always kept in the background; pretending to see nothing, hear nothing, notice nothing, and always trying to hide the slight blush that sometimes colored his cheeks, especially in winter. Sometimes, rarely, he had gone between them and pulled his friends away from him with the mild weapon of distraction. Now and then, in later years, also ended their curses with a furtive Finite Incantatem. And it had been Lupin, too, who had finally slammed his book shut on that awful day of the OWL exams and told the others it was time to go in before they got around to taking his underpants off, too. The only thing Severus could remember were scowls of disdain and cold replies when he got to the feet of the quartet, but they came without the sneers and insults of the other boys.

This realization, which was supposed to comfort Severus, gave him a shock. Secretly, he cursed his old enemy for having had to save him. Desperately, he searched again for something he could bend to his will. But all his ropes of support had slipped away from him. He had broken his vow. And like something he had basically known for a long time, the certainty came crashing down on him: Remus Lupin was innocent! He had been innocent all along. His sin began and ended with silence. And he had long since atoned for this comparatively minor weakness. To call him to account was no righteous punishment!

The unfamiliar thought plunged Severus into a bottomless pit. Without his old enemy to wring his neck, at least in his mind; whom he could make suffer and atone in his imagination for what the quartet had done to him, there remained nothing but bleak blackness. No enemy, no retribution, no justice for the ignominy he suffered. He felt as if a protective suit of armor had been torn from his body in one fell swoop, and what was revealed underneath was a piece of naked, battered flesh. Things happened. I can't undo them even if I wish I could - Lupin's words, they robbed him of all his strength. Deeper and deeper he fell into this despair. The memories bubbled up from the abyss. He thought again of every bad word, every laugh, every curse, every 'snivellus' and every schoolyard beating. All the memories, every one of them, stung like a thousand pinpricks. And he was powerless. There was no band-aid for these wounds. And the only healing potion - his hatred and craving for revenge - had crashed to the ground. The angry, furious brow was no more than pitiful struggle against surging, unending pain. The cauldron soon seemed to Severus like a rain barrel that had caught all the suppressed tears of his school years. And as the great hourglass indicated that night had fallen, he felt the pressure swell behind his eyes and his vision blurred with moisture. Broken, he dragged himself to bed, curled up on the mattress. Tears had long since welled up in his eyes. He hated himself for it. He hated this weakness. But he could resist no longer. Pain flooded him, the water mingling with the panting of a wounded animal. Firmly, Severus convulsed into the pillow, slamming his head into it again and again, letting it stifle his cries. He felt as if, like a jobberknoll, he had now reached the end of his life and was roaring out everything that had built up in seven years of school. The night passed sleeplessly under the violent surges of his emotions, and it was not until dawn that Severus was overcome by an all-pervading, relieving exhaustion.

When he opened his eyes again after a few hours of sleep, he lay in his bed completely overcome and could not move a muscle. Everything around him and in him was empty. No sound, no image, no thought, no feeling. His head and heart were a vacuum. The only thing that penetrated his perception was the fact that he was breathing and thus probably alive. Only slowly did the rigidity dissolve and when he finally found the strength to stand up, he was surprisingly calm. Yesterday seemed to have disappeared forever behind a gray veil of oblivion. Completely sober, Severus noted that it was January 6; that there was a frosty chill in the dungeon because he never lit the fireplace; and that he had forgotten to empty a bottle of Draught of Peace for a restful night after his outburst yesterday. Then he stood up. Remus Lupin still circled through his thoughts, but not as a shining white savior or gloomy black nemesis, only as one name among many, pencil gray and insignificant.

Only after the fortifying breakfast, which the colleague skipped that morning, did the colors gradually return. For what had come over him during the night, Severus felt surprisingly calm and tidy. It was as if the events of the previous day had washed everything clean like a thunderstorm, giving him clear vision for the first time in months. Even though he would never have confessed it, he had to admit to himself that Dumbledore had been right. He, Severus, had misjudged Lupin. Hadn't he actually already suspected it? That constant gnawing, what had it been but the voice of doubt he didn't want to listen to? Deep down, Severus still felt some anger at his old acquaintance's inaction. But the seething was dull, smothered under the weight of recent events. What, however, was to be done next? Would it be enough to send a thank you card? No, the last day had changed too much. Too much had been shattered that once seemed forged for eternity. Returning to the dungeons, Severus was glad that Lupin was not present at the table. He would not have known how to face him. How do you deal with someone who put you through hell and then saved your life? Musing, Severus blinked into space. All his weapons were down. What was the next step?

For a moment he remained standing on the threshold between his office and the private rooms, feeling the cold breeze between the before and behind brush around his legs. Then suddenly he knew what to do. Instantly he went to his desk, took out parchment and ink. There were too many questions and only one who knew the answer. One who had long since told him, through innuendo, that he wished to have a conciliatory talk. For too long, Severus had closed his ears. Now was the time to listen. Even if he didn't yet know how much he was willing to forgive: He could at least grant Lupin that. And maybe that way he could also figure out how to quickly and easily free himself from being in Remus Lupin's debt. Feeling defeated, Severus pursed his lips.  
"Cloudy!" he called, handing the letter to the house elf who apparated instantly to the office. "Take this to Professor Lupin!"

Less than ten minutes later he received the reply. It was terse and consisted of only one sentence: _This evening at eight in the Three Broomsticks._


	23. Ceasefire

The shame that gripped Severus at the thought of what lay ahead muffled his steps, and the soft snow did the rest. When he arrived at the inn almost unnoticed, the taproom was well filled. All of Hogsmeade seemed to be enjoying its after-work beer here, and some silver tinsel still flashed from the ceiling beams and the old support beams, apparently a remnant of the New Year's Eve celebration not long ago. It took him a moment to spot Remus Lupin in the noisy throng, and when he finally spotted him at a small table near the door to the back room, it was a strange sight. It felt wrong to see his old enemy sitting there so privately in front of his butterbeer, and to know that he was waiting for him. Even more so, considering what had happened. Severus hesitated for a moment, making his way through the crowd. His tongue felt paralyzed and his throat dry. The embarrassment of the affair had taken him in its iron fist after all. But all procrastination was of no avail. He was here, Lupin was here, and the matter wanted to be put behind him. So he gave himself a jolt and walked toward the table.

"Good evening," he greeted his rescuer stiffly, almost in a businesslike manner, and waited until Lupin told him to sit down. When Rosmerta joined them, Severus ordered a butterbeer as well. He didn't want to remind himself of his embarrassment by ordering harder liquor. So they sat there, the beer bottles in front of them, one the mirror image of the other. And like mirror images, they said not a word. It took time for the conversation to get going. And even then, it flowed slowly at first. They talked about trivia - the weather, the approaching end of Christmas vacation, Poppy and Dumbledore's unexpected trip - and paused again and again. It wasn't until the alcohol level rose at the tables in their neighborhood, and the merry get-together gradually turned into a binge, that their tongues loosened as well. That is, Lupin's tongue loosened, because Severus listened first and foremost. He asked only a few questions, exactly three: "Why did you come to me in December and in the fall? Why did you inculcate the students to behave well in my classes? I don't understand...why all this?"  
Lupin, who had just taken a sip, set aside the butterbeer and looked him straight in the face.  
"Isn't it clear?" he asked.  
Severus frowned in confusion.  
Lupin's gaze veiled as he looked past him.  
"I wanted to talk things out with you, make peace. Severus, I've felt guilty for a long time about all that happened back then," he confessed quietly. And then he turned back the wheel of time and began to tell. He always kept an eye on Severus' expression, apologizing at times if he had offended Severus. When he arrived at Halloween night 1981, it suddenly seemed to Severus as if his counterpart hesitated and looked at him attentively. But the moment quickly passed and Lupin continued. Severus had to pull himself together hard to keep his mask of impartiality with all the cruel memories of Lily's death. Fortunately, his counterpart spared him the details and, Severus didn't know why, didn't mention her name with a word. Soon he changed the subject.

As they approached the present, it had become stuffy in the Three Broomsticks and impossible to understand one's own words under the growing bawling and jeering of the drunks. Lupin suggested they take another short walk along the edge of the forest and then return to the castle. Without much fuss, Severus stood up, reluctantly paid their bill, and gave his colleague a deadly look when Lupin realized and wanted to thank him. It was enough that he had done the decent thing by treating his lifesaver of an enemy, there was no need to make a big fuss about it. In any case, Severus wanted to forget the noble gesture quickly, before he fully realized to whom he had actually bought a butterbeer. Grimly, he pushed open the door and left the good deed behind him.

Outside, a brightly polished sky spread out above them and cold starlight flashed like rhinestones in the velvety black. The wind swept icily through the alleys of the village, swirling the snow here and there and letting it trickle off the roofs. The world lay in a deep, lonely sleep as they guided their steps through the empty streets, and the silence around them seemed to grow impenetrable the farther they went from the village. Quietly and slowly, Remus continued in his explanations. They had already taken the path back to the castle and tall conifers towered to the wayside as he took a deep breath and seemed to gather himself for a final word.  
"That was all I wanted to say to you," he explained at last, pausing and seeking Severus' gaze, "I hope you understand now that our enmity was never my intention. That I never approved of the way Sirius, Peter, and James treated you, even though I made many mistakes myself. Mistakes that may be irreparable, even though I tried. Believe me, if I could, I would turn back time and undo it all. But we'd need a Time-Turner to do that, and you won't find one at Hogwarts."  
He forced a pained smile that seemed more like a caricature and immediately left his lips. Severus had also stopped and was examining his counterpart closely. He knew that it was now up to him to say something: a mild word that would finally open the door between them or a harsh one that would close it forever; a judgment on the confession that had been made. But he hesitated. In the subliminal heat of his anger at his former classmate, which was still simmering, there was a question. Drawing his eyebrows together, he looked sharply at his counterpart.  
"And if all this was never in your mind, as you say, why didn't you ever intervene and try to stop them? Why did you just let them get on with it?"  
Basically, Severus knew he'd gotten the answer to that weeks ago. But it was not enough for him. Cowardice was not enough of an explanation for him. He could not have said what he expected of his old enemy, but it was something more than that. The winter wind passed through the trees and the icy branches cracked softly. Lupin eyed him silently for a moment, his gaze turned inward as if he seemed to be considering. Expectantly, Severus looked at him and raised his eyebrows. Then Lupin took a deep breath, snatched his gaze from him, and cast it up to the moon, which by now was waning again, hovering over them. The silvery glow brushed Lupin's face, and for a moment Severus registered with amazement how this play of cool light and shadow transformed his countenance. In the daylight, his colleague often appeared exhausted and faded, older than he was. But the false moon veiled the wrinkles and made his features appear even and rejuvenated.  
"Sirius, James, and Peter were my best friends," he confessed in a strained voice, "It's hard to make friends when you're... well, _like me_."  
The sharp, bitter undertone was swallowed by the howling of the wind, while Lupin still kept a steady eye on the moon.  
"My childhood was nothing but a shadow. When Greyback attacked me, my father didn't speak a word to me for days and slept in the Leaky Cauldron the first night my mother locked me in our cellar. He worked in the Ministry, a hard advocate of the werewolf registry, and for a long time could not get over the shame and shock that his only, beloved son had been turned into one of those monsters who in his eyes were just scum, no longer human. After that, he feverishly searched for a solution to the problem. He and my mother, they did everything. But there was no cure, no medicine. A year later, after a fortunately mild incident, we moved with my grandparents to a remote cottage. It was surrounded by vast forests, so I could not do any harm. They all cared for me very much, but I only got to see other children when my grandmother took me shopping in the distant village and I was allowed to stay an hour in the playground, or when distant relatives from overseas came to visit on high holidays. I quickly learned that I was a danger to others, especially after I realized at the age of nine or ten what my father had done in the Ministry. When I came to Hogwarts, surrounded by children my own age, and suddenly made friends there, it was like a liberating awakening from a sad dream, like an unexpected gift that one had longed for. I was simply afraid. I was so afraid of losing them and falling back into the loneliness that tormented me all my childhood."

He exhaled softly and turned his gaze to the forest floor as the words sank down like falling snow. Severus stood stock-still beside him, staring. A wave of ice rushed through his body. The rejecting father, the playground, the isolation, the redeeming feeling of finally, _finally_ meeting someone who was like you and reaching out in friendship, all of it touched on something he didn't want to remember. Not now, not here, not HER in his mind as he stood at the gates of Hogwarts with one of his arch enemies.  
"But that's all in the past now," Lupin resumed the thread of conversation and his voice was laced with bitterness as he continued, "War has managed to make even those betray each other who were once closest. The friends are dead and the only one who survived them is their murderer."  
War, traitor to friends, death and murderer- the arrow hit and sat. Severus breathed shallowly as Voldemort's voice flickered through his memories, thanking him in lofty tones for delivering the prophecy and turning the next moment to Dumbledore's, who shouted 'You disgust me!" over the hill with a grim face. He sent up a push prayer to heaven that this torment might end soon, before his face revealed him yet. Then he realized that Lupin had stopped speaking. Emerging from his thoughts, Severus perceived him again. His counterpart stood before him with sagging shoulders, from which slid the old winter cloak - old, holey, and patched umpteen times like the robes Severus had been put into as a young boy. The full moon power in which he had fled from his nightmares into the castle grounds and discovered the wolf behind the window came back to his mind and he shuddered. How could it be that someone he hardly knew and was supposed to hate was suddenly so close to him, so similar? But then suddenly something came to him, boiling hot, that broke the eerie spell, rebuilt the lost wall and made the whole maudlin story of friendship, fear and regret collapse like a house of cards.

"What about Longbottom?" he hissed harshly, as if shot from a wand, "Were Black, Potter, and Pettigrew also to blame for your little show?"  
The burst of anger turned his words into scorn. With a surprised face, Lupin turned to him. Then he looked up at the castle and silently continued on his way. Severus followed him on his feet. They had already walked a few paces, during which he vigilantly scanned the area for Dementors, but they did not show themselves today, when Lupin finally replied.  
"I'm sorry about how this thing turned out for you," he explained sadly, "but you're mistaken if you think I wanted to show you up. After all, things have now turned out differently from what I intended."  
He broke off and seemed to consider. Then he explained in a schoolmasterly tone: "The task of a teacher of Defense Against the Dark Arts is to train students to fight evil creatures. You fight boggarts by scaring them with comedy. That's all I had in mind."  
"And that's reason enough to make me the laughing stock of the entire school?!" snorted Severus.  
Lupin turned to him, eyed him closely.  
"That was not my intention," he replied, looking slightly shaken. For a moment, he lowered his gaze and fell into a whisper. "I can imagine how you felt. The students' giggles are certainly no more pleasant than being called Snivellus or Werewolf."  
Severus thought he had misheard. Had Lupin just equated the two insults? The arrowhead struck. But before Severus could say a word, Lupin continued, now louder again.  
"I admit that it was my mistake not to impress upon the class that this exercise was not to leave the room. But..."  
Suddenly his expression darkened and he turned back to Hogwarts, keeping the unspoken thought to himself.  
"But?" probed Severus, feeling grim impatience growing.  
"But in a way, you brought the events on yourself," Lupin finished without looking back as he continued.  
"Bringing it on myself?!" snarled Severus, eyeing his colleague's back with raised eyebrows. Anger welled up in him like sour bile. At last Lupin stopped and turned to face him again. The wand light, which they had lit in the meantime in the denser coniferous forest, grazed his eyes. There was something stern in his gaze, but it was not accusatory, rather filled with skeptical anticipation.  
"Yes," Lupin replied coolly, still eyeing Severus, "To intimidate a student to the point of making them fear you the most is truly nothing to be proud of. At least, I wouldn't be."  
"That's -," Severus hissed as the anger boiled, then suddenly fell silent and gritted his teeth. ' _That's none of your damn business, the way I deal with my students,_ ' he had meant to say. But something held the words in his throat. Drilled into his consciousness from the primordial depths of his mind and wrapped itself around his tongue like a chain. The realization that there was something true in these words, that a Boggart of one's own person was indeed not a distinction. And he? He reacted to it as if Dumbledore, not his colleague, had rebuked him. Why? It wasn't Albus he was talking to here, it was just Lupin! Lupin, the.... the word _werewolf_ was stuck in Severus' throat.

In the meantime, they had reached the large gate that separated the castle grounds from Hogsmeade, and Severus was about to make a more moderate, finely measured retort when suddenly a deafening noise made them both turn their heads to the village in reflex.  
With a hiss and a pop, colorful fireworks poured over the village. Flashes of pink, green, and yellow flashed through the sky, wheels of flame rolled by, rockets howled through the night, beasts of flashing lights chased up to the stars, exploded, and poured down to earth as a shower of sparks. Severus raised his eyebrows. His argument with Lupin was wiped away for a second.  
"Today isn't the fifth of November, is it?!" he stated, puzzled.  
His counterpart also frowned thoughtfully.  
"It could be the tour group from Germany that was sitting diagonally behind us," he then speculated, "In some parts of Germany, they celebrate High New Year today. Maybe they wanted to celebrate a little of their customs while away from home."  
With his brow still furrowed, Severus stared at his colleague. He hadn't paid any attention to their table neighbors, and even if he had, he wouldn't have noticed that they were strangers. He spoke no German, and wondered how Lupin had become so familiar with foreign customs.  
"And they blow up a whole battalion of filibuster firecrackers in the process?!" he slipped out.  
"Well," Lupin replied, "Actually, fireworks are more of a New Year's Eve tradition in Germany. But there may be regional differences. Small, isolated mountain villages often have a life of their own."  
For a moment, Severus looked at him blankly. But then he put it out of his mind as he remembered the real reason for their meeting.  
"Fine," he said, spitting out the rest of his anger as if he had eaten something rotten, "so that was your long-awaited talk between us. And what do you expect now? That we become friends? That we'll meet every night for a butterbeer? That we might even get together and exchange ideas on how to deal with naughty students?"  
Lupin tore his eyes away from the great chant of '1994 Prosit Neujahr!" that had just gone up as a glittering banner above them and leaned his palm against the pillars of the gate.  
"Neville Longbottom is not naughty. He's merely weak and in need of support," he remarked tersely as he sought Severus' bick. Rattling, Severus drew in his breath under a new flare of his anger. Remus must have noticed, because at that moment he let go of the gate and took a step toward him.  
"But to answer your question: No. All I'm hoping for is that you can accept my apology and we can deal with each other like normal colleagues."

For a moment that carried the weight of an eternity, however, Severus appraised his counterpart. Lupin's gaze still held that skeptical expectation. Then Severus nodded curtly. With a wave of his hand, he waved his wand, muttered the spell that caused the dragon eyes in the school emblem to awaken, waited until they had eyed him, and the chains withdrew from the gate.  
"Well, good night, dear Colleague," he said formally, reluctantly offering Remus his hand to seal the deal.  
"Good night, to a good new start," the latter replied, and carefully shuffled off.  
With a final, brief nod, Severus passed under the archway and disappeared into the darkness.

He had gotten away quite well, he found on his way back to the castle. Ceasefire was a pretty cheap price to pay for saving his life, after all.


	24. In the silence of winter

Remus Lupin was left alone in front of the gate. The noise of the firecrackers gradually died down, but he didn't move a step. For a while, he watched his colleague's small wand light fade away and merge with the darkness. Clammy coldness surrounded him and gradually crept into his limbs. He could still hardly believe that the tide had turned so quickly; that after months of small wars, three weeks of icy silence and a coincidence had been enough to make Severus change his mind. Despite his harsh words on the threshold of the dungeon office, he no longer held a grudge against his colleague, Severus had finally come to his senses after yesterday. _Yesterday..._

With the onset of silence, the thoughts Remus had been mulling over for two days returned. This was exactly where it had taken place. The fight he had witnessed more than Severus probably knew. Finally, he too set off, walking up the lonely path as the snow muffled his footsteps and the spiral of his thoughts twisted and turned. So it was true after all. The assumption he had discarded a month and a half ago was true in the end. There was no other way to explain things. Contrary to his assertion before Severus, it had not been the light spell in front of the gate that had drawn his attention down into the castle grounds on the previous full moon night. He had noticed the Lumos Maxima with half an eye. But he would have dozed off again immediately, if something else had not completely woken him from his doze... 

At first, she had simply surprised him, the silver doe. An eerie mirage that rose from the haze of the past above the tops of the conifers. Lily had been dead for so long - how could her patronus be anything more than the mirage of a bad dream? But when Remus had seen the unmistakable black robe in the triple glow of the magic light, the Patronus, and the full moon, everything had suddenly fallen into place like a puzzle, and not only with regard to the scene in the castle grounds. Two days had passed since the event, and Remus still felt as if he were in a dream. But this time it was a lucid dream, a dream of knowledge that solved all the mysteries. A Patronus never changed its appearance by chance! Its shape, which was considered by many to be a mirror of the soul, was shaped by drastic experiences. Dumbledore's unwavering faith in Severus' renunciation of the Dark Arts and Voldemort; his appointment as Potions Master immediately after Lily and James' deaths; and the strange contradiction that he seemed to protect and despise Harry at the same time - Harry, who carried the legacy of his father _and mother_ \- all converged on this point, all at once making sense. Severus must have realized that someone had sent a prophecy to Voldemort, that Voldemort had hunted the family down and wiped them out, and that the horror of Lily's death had purified him.

For a moment longer Remus stood still, listening to the portal fall into the lock in the distance and feeling the flakes of the beginning snowfall melt coldly on his face. Back then, they had somehow known, even if they had rather dressed it up in crude jokes than say it openly. They had always suspected why James and the pale Slytherin had hated each other so bitterly. The real reason behind the umpteen pretexts bore the name Lily Evans. They had been friends, Severus and her. And now, viewed through the lens of memory, it was obvious that he would have liked to have been more to Lily then. But never in his life would Remus have expected that his old school enemy still had feelings for her - so long after graduation, so long after the break between them. If Remus had thought about it at all, he had thought it was a fleeting childhood crush that had died no later than the time of the ZAGs when Severus had insulted her so badly. How different things seemed now! So this love had survived all this time, twenty years and more, her death. All that remained was the mystery of why he had joined Lord Voldemort, a terrible tyrant for whom the likes of her had been the scum of the earth. But Sirius' betrayal was just as much of a mystery. The only explanation Remus could find was that perhaps his old friend had been overcome by family ties. Although Sirius had run away from home at sixteen and was always outwardly rebellious, deep inside his parents' failed love was a wound that had never healed. The outward impression must have been deceiving. In the end, the burden of always being the black sheep was probably too much, so that he broke in after all, as unbelievable as it sounded. And Severus? Him Remus knew too poorly and knew only what everyone knew: a fascination with Dark Magic and surrounded by friends who themselves sympathized with Voldemort. And friends... friends could drive you to do many things. They could make you tacitly sign something you knew was wrong, and maybe even make you forget what was right and wrong in the first place - until the tide of fate turned cruelly and your mistakes caught up with you, and there was nothing left but to cherish the memory of the people you loved. 

Remus thoughtfully looked up at the castle. A cool shadow, like the winter night that surrounded him, fell on his heart and weighed it down. As much as he disliked Severus and as much as the constant attacks affected him, this trait was strangely remarkable, almost enviable. Undying love, even beyond death, it was so rare! To so many people, hearts were but a plaything and loyalty a cryptic rune, as he himself had painfully learned. He would not have expected to discover such feelings in Severus of all people, the cynical, cold Slytherin. But this Patronus, this love... suddenly it seemed to him, although overshadowed by the reflection of the Dark Mark, like a light in the darkness. And he did not know whether he meant the world or Severus' soul. His head was a forest of questions on which the rain of surprise fell. What else might Severus be hiding under his icy mask? Which person would he have met had they met under different circumstances? And what would it have been like to be bound to a human for so many years? A person who was lost forever?

Remus lowered his eyes, looking at the shimmering white at his feet. He couldn't deny it: his admiration was aroused once again, despite everything that repelled him about Severus. He felt as if he had found a gem in a mountain of dirty coal. And secretly he wished to dig even deeper, to discover even more hidden things. Why? Why was he suddenly interested in a person who just a few days ago wanted him to go to hell? He didn't know. At first, it had been pity coupled with a guilty conscience that had made him pay special attention to Severus. But it had long since passed that point, Remus sensed. Perhaps it was because his old classmate was the only remaining face from his teenager days. A last, weak link of a chain that was thought to be broken. Lily had also meant a lot to Remus, though in a very different way. She had been almost like a sister to him after James had met her. That another under the battlements of the castle remembered her smiles in class and her bubbling cauldrons and thought back to them tenderly was, in a strange way, a comfort. As cold, as strange, as unapproachable Severus seemed to him, it seemed as if a connection had suddenly opened up between them; as if he was facing a like-minded person who had come to him in the mask of the enemy.

For a moment Remus closed his eyes. Other images of his colleague flickered through his consciousness in the icy wind: his ragged appearance, the cold domicile in the dungeon, the escape from the Christmas party - all these little signs that spoke volumes about the fact that the Potions Master didn't care much for himself or the world. Suddenly Remus remembered his own misery of the last few years and the similarity of the images sent a shiver down his spine. Somewhere they had both been stranded at Hogwarts, that catch-all for lost souls, it occurred to him. Severus had found grace here. And he himself? As young as the curse had struck him, he had never quite made himself at home in the demimonde of the Palus District. Many could not cope with the transformation into a werewolf, put an end to their own lives. The rest went down paths similar to Greyback's: outlaws who took revenge on the wizarding community for their outcasting by trampling every law under their feet and trying hard to become the monster people wanted to see in them. But despite some dark thoughts that came over him from time to time: Remus was alive and he hated what sheer need had already driven him to. Basically, he was not a child of this community of outcasts. Not in his heart, in which he had never completely given up the faint hope of once again being able to feel the upliftment of his youthful days. But just as little he belonged to the world of the _'decent witches and wizards'_ , to whom the full moon at best caused a restless sleep. If one thing had proved that to him again, it had been Ilaria's reply letter. He had expected her anger at his silence and her shock. But the owl that had aggressively pecked him in the arm; the accusations that he had been up to no good with her and words like 'disgusting creature!" had hit him in his old age after all. Without Dumbledore, the good spirit of the school, where would he be? And where would Severus be? Many had rejoined society after Voldemort's fall, claiming they had never served him willingly. But when Remus thought of the Patronus and his willingness to betray Lucius, he could not imagine Severus among these liars. His old classmate's renunciation of Voldemort now seemed sincere to him as well. That left the cold, desolate Azkaban, from which Sirius had escaped, just as only the Palus district remained for him. The Dark Mark and the Full Moon - all two cast a shadow from which one could not step out. They were both border crossers between worlds.

For a moment, Remus' mind fell into a vacuum. His thoughts fell silent, stunned by themselves. Then they returned to their beginning. Who were he and Severus, anyway? Remus had expected to meet an old enemy at Hogwarts, and suddenly found himself face to face with someone who was more like him in a strange way than he had believed. A person who possessed courage and in whom burned the fire of a love that unintentionally made him both admire him. A person who perhaps hid even more under his hard shell than he could even now dream of. If only that cursed old petty war were not there, he would have been able to direct these conflicting feelings within him much more easily in one direction! A murky past that Severus had probably been renouncing for twelve years, Remus could forgive him for. But not what he did to Harry and his friends, to actually take revenge on James. The past, it still poisoned even the present and made Severus deaf to every good word. But maybe... maybe all that changed with today? In any case, the invitation to a reconciliation meeting had been a clear gesture, a step forward. It was quite conceivable that Severus would now finally accept his attempts to make amends, and with it would come understanding. For Remus had every intention of making up for the seven years of his turning a blind eye as far as he could. If not for Severus' sake, then for his guilty conscience. Though the future was still written in the stars that twinkled over that High New Year's night, Remus was in good spirits. Without always keeping a spark of hope, he might not be here at Hogwarts.

Deep in thought, he walked on, letting the silence of winter penetrate him. With each step, the icy air around him seemed to grow even colder, driving him toward the castle. And again, loneliness grabbed at his heart; made the pain of Ilara's letter break it, though Remus had long since vowed not to feel such stings again. The snow beneath his feet glistened white in the moonlight. Silvery white like a Patronus; like Severus' doe; like a light in the darkness that never went out. Almost unnoticed, his feet had soon carried him to his icy inn. Remus lit the fireplace. Then, following an inner impulse, he stepped over to his closet, took out the old cardboard box with the models, let them slide through his fingers - the broken houses and streets that resembled castles in th air.In his memory, faces passed by once again, like pale ghosts: Ilaria, David, Cassandro, Marlene,... all the lost loves that he wanted to seal for eternity and yet were only fleeting encounters; piles of shards on the dark mystery, over which the full moon watched. No, Remus did not regret writing to his last love. The pain could not erase the fierce pride in his courage. In the end, the agony of uncertainty did sting deeper than the dull ache of certainty. He knew, after all, that someone like him, who could always become a danger to those closest to him; who was only half a man, did not deserve love. And yet...

Shivering and sinking into melancholy, he stowed the box back in the closet. Then he turned to the bed and got ready for the night. Pulling the blanket over him, he once again thought of Severus and Lily. How much, how he wished there was such an eternal light in his life as well. No more having to fear the truth; no more giving his heart away only to have it returned broken. Just to love and be loved, through all time, forever. Then his eyes fell closed. Drowsy he saw the winter night again and Severus summoning the doe. All at once the coldness left him and a silent smile crossed his lips. A hot spot grew in his chest, stretching into every limb with the beat of his heart. The face of the watering master accompanied him, accompanied him even into his dreams.


	25. Late realisations

The talk on the threshold of the new year changed everything for Severus. The thought of his school days still hurt, but he had promised the disagreeable colleague a truce and only fickle wimps broke their word. So he decided to put history to rest, and from now on to regard Lupin as just one face among many at Hogwarts, insignificant and nameless as any of the countless students. On the afternoon of the seventh of January, he returned the borrowed books to the school library, adjusted Slytherin's score downwards a little and instructed Derek Rosier to tell the students of his house after the end of the holidays that he would no longer reward misbehaviour against Professor Lupin in the future. He disposed of the preserved lemon juice he had used to acidify the last Wolfsbane Potion down the sink in the laboratory. As he did so, he tore the leaf with the name 'Remus Lupin' from the stalk of his old enemies' shamrock in his mind. Then he stowed the empty bottle in one of the two chests in the corridor, put the words 'werewolf' in it in his mind, flipped the lid shut, took the key and locked up the past forever.

As he climbed the spiral staircase on his way to dinner after his work was done, Severus felt as if he had just been showered. A rare and strange feeling, for he did not usually waste much time on hygiene. Lupin was already sitting at the table when he entered the Great Hall. For the first time, Severus did not see an enemy in him that aroused his fierce hatred. He felt as if he were looking at a stranger and, like two strangers who happened to pass each other in the alley, they exchanged only trivial words and went their separate ways after the meal, although Severus felt as if his colleague's eyes were following him. But he thought no more about it. Back in the dungeons, he made himself comfortable in the library room and, bent over his book, came to the conclusion that this new ignorance was quite pleasant. But it was not to stay like this for long...

On Sunday morning, Severus got out of bed in the cool of the morning and found a small bowl of pralines together with a card on his bedside table. Glancing at the pocket calendar, he noticed that he had once again turned a year older. Shrugging, Severus put the thin leather notebook aside, ignored the sweets, got ready and stepped out into the school world. Basically, he didn't care much about the matter. What did it mean to have a birthday? Since the year Lily had stopped happily hugging him outside the classroom in the morning and handing him a small, colourful parcel, his anniversary was just a number. A formal greeting from the school kitchen, a little something from Dumbledore and a congratulatory card from Lucius were usually the only gifts. But his 34th Anniversary did not abide by rules. When Severus emptied his locker in the staff room that morning, as usual, he found something unusual in addition to the expected gift from the headmaster and the card: a small bar of exquisite dark chocolate, decorated with red ribbon. He immediately recognised the handwriting on the enclosed note. It was the same handwriting that had suggested a meeting at the Three Broomsticks. Astonished, Severus frowned. What was the point of this gift? Was Lupin trying to tell him that he should get himself out of trouble the next time a Dementor attacked? But the chocolate brand seemed a little too expensive for a mere reminder, and how did Lupin even know his birthday?! In any case, the colleague had shown astonishing marksmanship. Dark chocolate was the only sweet Severus would willingly touch - contrary to the chocolates the house elves had brought him in the dungeon. Dumbledore still hadn't seen through it after all these years and had sent him another small gift basket from Honeydukes. Grumbling, Severus wrapped the gifts and started on his way back. But he couldn't get the chocolate out of his mind. He had already noticed that colleagues who got on particularly well with each other gave each other presents on their birthdays. But since when had he belonged to this illustrious club?

Things got even stranger a week later. The 15th of January fell on a Saturday. And like every weekend in the middle of the month, the shifts of the night guards for the coming weeks were decided in a small conference. Severus, who still had a cauldron on the fire, was running late. The door had long since been locked and the murmur of voices filtered out into the corridor as he arrived in front of the staff room. Hastily he drew his wand, made the invisible key appear by the secret spell and burst into the most glorious atmosphere of departure.

"Ah, Professor Snape, we had missed you already," Minerva McGonagall greeted him dryly, while the first colleagues were already packing their things.

"I still had some duties to attend to," he replied gruffly and took a seat in his chair next to Professor Vektor. In front of him on the table was an already quite completed schedule.

"So," the Deputy Headmistress raised her voice overhead again, "That settles the matter. Madam Hooch will take the Monday night watch with Professor Babbling, and Professor Burbage will take the Friday shift with Professor Snape."

She drew her wand, tapped the schedule in front of her and looked around again.

"Is there anything else that's unclear?"

Severus stared at the document in front of him and saw his name appear in a box on the schedule that had been blank a moment ago. Friday, of all days! The day his classes closed early. He had been looking forward to long, free weekends. Had planned, now that he no longer had to spy on Lucius Malfoy for Dumbledore, to use the time entirely for his research without being interrupted by annoying appointments. The night watch schedule was thwarting his plans.

"However," he spoke up hastily, not waiting for McGonagall to give him the floor, "Friday is a most inconvenient time. Doesn't one of the colleagues feel the need to swap shifts?"

He looked around the room, but everyone avoided his sharp gaze, except for Lupin, who returned it with a thoughtful expression. Apparently the friday shift wasn't particularly popular.

"Severus, if they don't turn up on time for conferences, you can't expect the staff to be considerate of your wishes," McGonagall replied sternly after a while and then turned back to the group, "I hereby declare this meeting closed!"

Chairs moved, the door opened and she had almost packed the shift schedule into her document bag when a harumph made her pause.

"I'm taking Professor Snape's shift!" a soft, dark voice declared.

Surprised, Severus jerked his head around. Had Lupin really just agreed to swap? A leather bag lay on his table. He, too, had already begun to pack his things and returned the glance that was thrown his way only fleetingly. Briefly, Severus glanced at the shift schedule, bristled and turned back to Professor McGonagall, not without keeping an eye on his colleague.

"That won't work," he explained, stretching to address them both, "Professor Lupin's shift is on Sundays. I've already had a Sunday shift this term."

Before McGonagall could reply anything, Lupin shook his head gingerly in the corner of his eye.

"That's all right. I don't mind checking on things twice a week at night either. It's only for a month, after all."

Hand still on the document folder, McGonagall eyed Severus and Lupin in turn, finally lingering on the latter with a serious look.

"Are you really sure, Remus?" she inquired with a suspicious expression.

"Quite sure," Lupin replied, rising from his seat, "Perhaps Professor Snape will take my shift next time. Goodbye!"

Severus' lips formed into a silent, only half-conscious thank you, but Lupin was already ducking between Rubeus Hagrid and Pomona Sprout, who were hastily leaving the staff room.He looked after Remus, so puzzled that he only peripherally noticed Professor McGonagall correcting the shift schedule one last time. Why on Merlin's beard had Lupin done that? A month ago he hadn't exchanged a word with him and now the chocolate and then the night shift?!It couldn't be that he was still trying to soften him up? Remus had had his talk, they had made peace, and he must have noticed the change in the stands of the score glasses, surely?

Suspiciously, Severus entered the spiral staircase down to the homely cellar. He could not and would not complain. Lupin's move suited him very well. Nevertheless, he did not understand. What was his colleague up to? The easiest thing would have been to climb back up the stairs to the seventh floor and call Lupin out. But something was holding Severus back. Was calling him out even the right word when it came to a favour that had been granted? Severus spent a day in stoic brooding as he stoked the cauldron for Merlin Academy. Then he came to the conclusion that it was no use. He would have to take Lupin up on his strange behaviour to gain clarity. Today was Sunday and perhaps his saviour would indulge in a cup of tea before his tour of the castle. True, Severus had decided to keep the weekends free. But a little conversation did not take up too much time.

He was lucky. When he opened the door to the staffroom a quarter of an hour after nine, Remus Lupin was indeed sitting there, lonely and alone. The crackling fire behind him, an open book in front of his nose and so deeply absorbed in reading that he didn't even notice his visitor. For a moment Severus hesitated to enter. The picture that presented itself to him seemed so harmonious that he felt he was entering a peace where he was not welcome. And had he been indifferent to that in any other situation, here he recoiled for some inexplicable reason. So he remained standing in the doorway, watching the browsing man. With a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach, he realised once again that half-shade looked good on Lupin. But then he put the impression out of his mind and crossed the threshold. His colleague looked up, recognised him and smiled.

"Hello Severus," came a friendly voice from the table, "Here so late to fetch documents?"

Severus didn't linger long.

"No, I was looking for you," he explained curtly, "We need to talk!"

Lupin frowned, silently placing a bookmark in his book and slowly pushing it aside. There was something strange in his gaze that Severus couldn't quite grasp. But he decided that the matter was too unimportant and left it at that.

"Please, sit down," his counterpart replied meanwhile, pointing to the empty chairs with a vague nod of his head.

"Thank you," Severus murmured, taking a seat directly opposite, while Lupin clasped his hands.

"So, the night shift...", Severus began to explain.

Lupin looked puzzled. "Is there something wrong with it?"

"No," Severus continued, feeling the embarrassment of the matter paralyse his tongue, "I just wanted to say thank you again and... so last week there was something in my pigeonhole, something from you, some kind of present."

"Yes," Lupin replied as if it was the most understandable thing in the world, stood up suddenly and strode over to the tea kitchen, "A cup too?"

"No, thank you," Severus called out to him. But it was too late. Staggering, his colleague returned to the table with two steaming cups and set one down in front of his nose. Black coffee, unsweetened. No tea with rock sugar.

"I thought it was the custom here among good colleagues," Lupin explained after a hearty sip from his cup, "I remembered your birthday from our old yearbook And since you hardly touched anything at the Christmas party, I thought the more bitter varieties might appeal to you more. I hope I wasn't wrong in my choice?"

"No, it's not that," Severus replied hastily, "I just don't know..."

He broke off, thinking. Once again, he was at a loss for words. He wasn't used to getting so personal. Dumbledore was the only one he discussed such things with and usually Albus pre-empted him. But Lupin was not the Headmaster who read him like an open book and put the thoughts themselves into words.

"I don't understand it," Severus finally admitted, "I just don't understand why you do it. Give me gifts, take over my night shift? What's it all about?"

Instead of an answer, Lupin stared at him in confusion, then lowered his gaze for a second to stir his tea once more.

"I actually thought we settled that a week ago?" he replied quietly.

"Settled what?!" responded Severus, himself completely flabbergasted.

Lupin looked up again and looked him straight in the eye. The usually light brown had darkened a little in the half-shadow of the fireplace.

"My resources may be limited, but I told you on our walk that I would like to amend the wrong."

He sipped the rest of his tea and gave Severus a warm smile that sent goosebumps down his spine.

Amends?!

Of all the things he had counted on - a service, a trade, anything that he would be even deeper in Lupin's debt and that Lupin would be able to take cold advantage of it - this thought had not crossed his mind. Doubtingly, Severus examined his counterpart's face. But not a wrinkle said anything about a lie. Then, embarrassed, he bit his lips to avoid exposing his stupidity. He felt like the worst kind of idiot. But Lupin just glanced up at the clock and jerked his head. "I must be off! Good night, Severus," he said quietly, taking his cup away as the door to the staff room opened. Professor Trelawney entered and a few seconds later they both left the room.

Severus was left alone in the staff room, the now cold coffee still in front of him. Amends. He let the word melt on his tongue. Once, twice, a hundred times. Although he still distrusted it a little, it felt good. Just. Deserved. Long overdue. Almost as if someone had finally drizzled diptam or murtlar essence on a lingering wound. Once again he reviewed the past week. Enjoyed the brief moment of joy that someone had thought of him when he discovered the chocolate in his locker, before scepticism poisoned the moment. Then his thoughts wandered further back. Memories of the past months emerged from the half-shadow of the staff room. Lupin's words echoed in the silence. And suddenly, like an inspiration, Severus saw everything in an altogether different light. The visit to the dungeons in September, the compliments on the Wolfsbane Potion and Lucius Malfoy, the unusually well-behaved class, the Dementors - had they not also been attempts at amends? By Merlin! Dumbledore had tried to explain it to him all along. But he had ignored the words, had taken Lupin's behaviour for a well-meaning show at best, with some evil intent lurking behind it. Even now, the idea that someone was simply being nice to him without any ulterior motive other than to bind up the old wounds seemed strange to him. But in the face of his rescue, Severus himself could find no other explanation. For a moment longer he basked in this notion. Then suddenly a thunderstorm broke into the serenity as his thoughts changed direction. For he saw something else in his memories: A hateful man who coldly threw the remorseful Lupin out the door; who called him a werewolf at every opportunity and put lemon juice in his potions; who denounced him to his superior, secretly put an entire class on the trail of his secret; rewarded students for attacks against him and did not even hesitate to break into his office and tear him out of his sleep just to threaten him.

Severus gazed pensively down into the dark, steaming brew under his nose, in which his reflection showed itself, only dim and blurred. For a moment, his mind hung in abeyance. Then, abruptly, Severus set the cup down, made its contents disappear with an evanesvo, and hurried back to the dungeons. The coffee, the black coffee he usually loved so much, had suddenly begun to taste bitter.


	26. An unusual offer

Remus looked up. A knock on the door drowned out the grinding of wood on the floor. Immediately, his pulse skyrocketed. Hastily, his wand drawn, he slid the box of boggart from Professor Binn's classroom into an alcove and called over his shoulder:

"It's open!"

A slight tension settled over his muscles. He had expected this moment, had his words all worked out. But now that his visitor was actually at the door, the doubts returned. Doubts as to whether he was doing the right thing.

On the wall, the leaves of the calendar lifted, showing the 27th of January, light in the breeze as his guest entered. It was Severus Snape.

"The Wolfsbane Potion," he explained tersely, shrouded in the darkness of the corridor like a nimbus and his coarse hooked nose bathed in a watery haze. For a moment Remus eyed him shyly - the dark eyes, the pallor, the striking features - and felt again that light feeling in the pit of his stomach that had accompanied many of their encounters for almost a month, since that strange dream after their talk. With a clearing of his throat, Remus tried to suppress the sensation, turned away and let a cursory glance roam over the desk. The reason for his nervousness lay on the pile of mail. Again and again he had picked up the letter over the last few days and thought about the consequences. One thing was certain, he needed an assistant. From a purely professional point of view, it was probably the best choice, next to Hagrid perhaps, but as Hogwarts' gamekeeper, Hagrid was also indispensable for this short time. But would Remus' offer even be accepted? And if so, how would they get along?

Remus looked sceptically again at the face of the Potions Master, who fortunately seemed preoccupied with himself and averted his eyes as he approached. Indeed, much had changed between them in the last few weeks. House points Remus deducted from Slytherin students were no longer compensated and the call 'werewolf' had become so foreign to him by now that he had almost forgotten how much that word had once hurt him. But he wasn't sure how much he could trust the newfound peace yet. If there was one thing he had understood on that night of the full moon between New Year's Day and the Three Kings' Day, it was that Severus was a closed book. Briefly, Remus frowned. His longing to read more of that book was undiminished. So often his thoughts wandered off to his mysterious colleague, circling him like moths to a flame. Deep down he believed, wanted to believe, that there were more secret lights shining in this darkness that Severus radiated around him. Something had latched onto the idea of piercing that darkness and seeking out the lights. Perhaps it was due to the loneliness that had characterised his life since Sirius' betrayal, but a naïve, vague hope germinated in him that he might find a friend. If James and Peter and Sirius were already lost forever in the valley of death or betrayal, at least with Severus there was someone who shared his memories of Lily. A gateway to a long-lost past.

For a moment, Remus felt the warmth ripple gently through his body as their eyes met - and shivered. He had to be careful. He knew these omens and never had they led to anything good. But when he thought of how Severus had treated his students, even humiliated him himself, the danger was gone. Every warm impulse was silent in the face of distaste, shock and dislike. Could two such different emotions exist in his soul at the same time? Sometimes it seemed to Remus that he saw two people when he looked at his colleague. And if he was honest with himself, maybe that was the real reason why he wanted to take him along on his mission: To tear the seals off the book, to bring light into the darkness of the black eyes and at the same time into the thicket of his own confused feelings.

"Thank you," Remus murmured, accepting the cup from the proffered hand. For a tiny moment their fingers touched in grazing, sliding past each other. A tingling sensation awoke in Remus' fingertips, seemingly aroused by the heat seeping through the thin porcelain and warming his hands. But as Severus let go of the Wolfsbane Potion, a cool breeze brushed the back of his hand. With a critical look and slightly parted lips, the Potions Master watched motionlessly as Remus brought the cup to his lips. Then, as if embarrassed, he turned away and pretended to be interested in the sleeping Jarvey. Remus gave him an irritated sideways glance at this strange behaviour. But when he took the first brave sip from his cup, surprise hit him. No nauseating sourness that made his facial muscles tighten, no disgusting bitterness that made his taste buds shiver, just a slight wormwood-like aftertaste in the finish. Already he set the cup down and remarked in amazement, "It tastes quite different today!"

"I've improved the recipe," Severus replied a little too hastily as he turned back to face him. Remus studied his counterpart's face. It was a lie. Unlike Severus, he didn't know any Legilimency himself, but a little knowledge of human nature was enough to see through it. The shock came over Remus like an ambush. He had swallowed every bad word against him and regarded it as the belated punishment for his own silence. But to taint his medicine with who knew what long-term consequences was a different calibre altogether.

"Improved the recipe?!" he inquired forcefully, looking Severus straight in the face with rising yet still controlled anger. The Potions Master turned his profile to him again, this time to look at the Grindylow in the aquarium for a pretence.

"It was nothing. Nothing dangerous," he explained contritely, "Just a squirt of lemon juice. No effect except for the taste."

Remus watched his counterpart's facial expressions and posture. For a moment, the fascination of the spectacle dampened his anger. So much pride and so much shame in a single face! A quiet satisfaction almost made his anger subside. Almost.

"I'm disappointed," he declared coolly as Severus still stoically avoided his gaze, "I thought you could be relied upon as Potions Master?!"

Half his words were true. He was disappointed. But not because of the contamination of his medicine. Lemon juice for a vile taste - what a childish attempt at revenge. No, what stung him was that his counterpart seemed unwilling to openly ask his forgiveness. For some reason, this hit Remus harder than it should have, almost as if a friend had broken his trust. Yet they were far from being friends.

At last Severus turned to him again and on his face was the expression of a defiant boy who had got into a schoolyard fight and was expecting wedges. But Remus had no intention of hitting him with words. A forced apology was worth as much as Leprachaun gold. A stone clenched heavily in his stomach. If only Severus could bite the bullet! Finally Remus finished his cup in front of the Potions Master and set it aside.

"The Wolfsbane Potion is significantly better this way," he remarked in mock casualness, "I hope it stays that way in the future."

For a second Severus stared at him, puzzled, then his mouth opened.

"Of course!" it came from the thin lips.

Remus responded to his words with a nod.

"Good," he replied, leaving Severus to his thoughts. He had something else on his mind. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the potions master reach for the cup, obviously wanting to clear it.

"No, leave it there!" he shouted, "I need to talk to you. Sit down."

Severus raised an eyebrow, but then settled down on the couch near the desk. Remus' guest kept the question of what it was about to himself. It was only reflected in his eyes, which were fixed on him expectantly. Eyes that gave Remus a pleasant shiver.

"For my seventh grade class, I will soon need some new objects of study," he began to explain, "Unfortunately, things are a bit complicated this time, so I can't fall back on my usual sources. That means I have to take action myself to capture some specimens and bring them to Hogwarts. It would be a great help to me if an experienced colleague would give me a hand."

"And you thought of me?" retorted Severus immediately, his gaze razor-sharp on him. Remus nodded. His counterpart pursed his lips in retort. But Remus commanded him to be silent with a wave of his hand. And to his astonishment, Severus reacted.

"Here, it's about these creatures," Remus continued, levitating an old copy of Scamander's 'Dark Creatures of Central Europe' from the shelf into his guest's hands, "page 394."

Deftly, the potions master's long-limbed fingers flicked the book open.

"The Nightalp," Severus read the heading aloud and the black pupils dilated, sparkling longingly in the dim light of the desk lamp. This was exactly the reaction Remus had been hoping for and secretly he congratulated himself on having judged his counterpart so well. But Nightalps were also really interesting creatures for all those who dealt with the Dark Arts. Their doings had left their mark even in the legends of the Muggles. But of course, conjuring up dark dreams and the breathing difficulties caused by squeezing were only the tip of the iceberg. The small figures, which looked like grotesque caricatures of house elves, possessed the ability to completely confuse a person's mind with their soft, echoing whispering and make them the tool of their will. It is said that there have been Nightalps who could single-handedly plunge an entire village into delusions. And their saliva secretion was considered a rare, highly effective ingredient for potions, which could only be distributed under massive restrictions. No wonder Severus was spellbound. But at that moment, his expression darkened. And Remus knew why. There was a twist to the whole thing.

"The importation of these creatures is strictly forbidden, Lupin, according to the treaty with the German Office for Foreign Witchcraft," the Potions Master remarked sharply and handed the book back. Remus took it calmly and put it aside without a glance.

"Dumbledore has arranged a special permission with the Ministry," he explained, nodding over to the top letter on the filing pile, whereupon Severus took the envelope.

"Hogwarts is permitted to house a juvenile that is not yet in full possession of its faculties for two months for educational purposes. Catch and release are to be provided by the school and the Headmaster is liable for the safety of the students."

Severus, who had also read the letter in the meantime, bit his lip. Remus could see the battle he was fighting with himself inside. On the one hand, the temptation to face a magical creature in the flesh that few wizards ever got to see because it was now an endangered species. On the other hand, to embark on a semi-legal venture and to shake hands with his former adversary. Adversary, that thought stung Remus again.

"When is this expedition to take place?" asked Severus finally tonelessly, lowering the letter. Remus cleared his throat.

"This weekend," he explained soberly and Severus frowned.

"This weekend?! What about your night watch and the Wolfsbane Potion?" he replied sceptically. Remus, who by now had poured himself some water against his raw throat, hastily set the glass down.

"Well, I had thought that we would leave by portkey on Saturday after lunch and taking my medicine, and return early Sunday afternoon. That is, of course, if it doesn't cause you any trouble brewing."

Severus nodded curtly and then let his gaze wander around the room. He still seemed doubtful, still preoccupied with something. Remus watched him intently.

"How did you think of me, anyway?" he asked quietly, his eyes finally lingering on the copy of today's Daily Prophet carelessly tossed on a box. His tone seemed guileless and yet it carried a hint of something deeper, more significant.

"I think of all the teachers at Hogwarts, you're in the matter the deepest," Remus replied carelessly. Instantly, Severus jerked his head around to stare at him, a dangerous glow in his dilated pupils.

"Deepest in matter?!" the Potions Master repeated in a tone of undisguised annoyance. Perplexed, Remus returned his gaze. For a split second he didn't know what had happened. But then the scales fell from his eyes and he realised his faux pas. The Daily Prophet! Dumbledore's office! The secret of a dark past he should never have revealed.

"Harry told me that you would have liked to have had my job. And I noticed that you've been representing me quite well over the past few months.So I thought you would be best suited for the job," he tried to cheat the gallows with half the truth. The other half, that Severus had revealed an incredible knowledge of the Dark Arts even in their teens, he wisely kept to himself.

For a moment the Potions Master still appraised him critically, then the haggard features softened.

"Good," Severus agreed, "What time do we leave? What shall I take with me? Tent? Sleeping bag?"

"Three o'clock in my office," Remus replied, "As for luggage, you'll only need what you need for a night out. I've already booked two rooms at 'Geissenpeter's Hexenhäusl'."

Severus nodded curtly and took the cup he had brought the Wolfsbane Potion in.

"Until tomorrow then," he spoke coolly and turned to leave.

"Until tomorrow," Remus replied, looking after him motionlessly.

Only when the door closed did the tension fall away from him and he exhaled deeply. What a situation! He had been ready to file away Severus' story, even more so after seeing the twin of Lily's Patronus over the castle grounds. He had been of good will to regard his colleague's dark past as a youthful sin long since closed, and to spread the mild cloth of forgiveness over it under the weight of the present. It had even crossed his mind that Severus was an outcast just like him, who flourished in misery outside the school walls. But he had not given a single thought to what his past might mean for himself. Goosebumps ran down Remus' spine as footsteps echoed down the corridor outside. He knew what it was to want to run from a dark secret and fear discovery. To shrink back from the monster within. He still tasted the Wolfsbane Potion on his tongue. The potion that none other than Severus Snape had brewed. Burning like firewiskey, the last drop ran down and his heart beat a little faster.

Only when the door closed did the tension fall away from him and he exhaled deeply. What a situation! He had been ready to file away Severus' story, even more so after seeing the twin of Lily's Patronus over the castle grounds. He had been of good will to regard his colleague's dark past as a youthful sin long since closed, and to spread the mild cloth of forgiveness over it under the weight of the present. It had even crossed his mind that Severus was an outcast just like him, who flourished in misery outside the school walls. But he had not given a single thought to what his past might mean for himself. Goosebumps ran down Remus' spine as footsteps echoed down the corridor outside. He knew what it was to want to run from a dark secret and fear discovery. To shrink back from the monster within. He still tasted the Wolfsbane Potion on his tongue. The potion that none other than Severus Snape had brewed. Burning like firewiskey, the last drop ran down and his heart beat a little faster.


	27. Mountain hikes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello together! Today we have a special warning: this chapter is full of clichés about Bavaria. Why? Well, you should have something to laugh about, that's why. Have fun ;)

The old travelling bag hit the tiled floor with a dull clap. A tallowy light flickered briefly across the scuffed leather, then the buckles squeaked open and a black mouth opened between the handle grips, exhaling a musty breath. Severus stuffed it with a pair of thick socks, the alarm clock and the nightdress he had worn on his body only a few hours ago.Then he stepped over to the wet room, half-heartedly tossed the toothbrush with its bristles splayed, the empty toothpaste tube and the comb that was missing a few tines into a dusty toiletry bag and stowed it in the travel bag along with a reference book from his library. Before grabbing the handles and lugging his luggage over to the office, he paused briefly and looked down at the items that had accumulated under his nose. It still seemed incredible to him that he had actually embarked on this venture. If someone had told him a month ago that he would willingly spend almost an entire weekend at Lupin's side, he would have immediately informed Dumbledore that Black was now apparently using Confundus Charms. But the offer was too tempting.So much did the strict German customs conditions drive up the price of Nightalps' saliva that it was almost impossible to get it anywhere in Britain without having to clear his entire Gringotts dungeon for it. Only on the black market could smuggled goods be found at a halfway affordable price.Not to mention the fascination of these animals, these masters of manipulating the human mind. He could not pass up this opportunity.

For a moment Severus was still weighing the three small vials he had prepared for this purpose in his hands when suddenly a heaviness settled on his limbs. Lupin would not leave his mind. Lupin as he spoke the invitation. Blinking, Severus tried to shake off the memory, with moderate success. The sting that the allusion to his dark past had given him hardly hurt at all by now. As much as Severus didn't like it, his colleague was only right. But something else itched him like fleas. Once again, Lupin had been kind to him. Once again he had done him a favour, this man he had done nothing but trample on over the last few months. Severus pinched his mouth as he ruminated; while his gaze grazed his own ugly reflection in the dusty silver glass of the wet corner and a clammy feeling clenched his stomach. So many outrages, should he perhaps...? No! Lupin had spoken of a new beginning in the castle grounds. It was enough. No more thought of the past. This flea-biting would not spoil his anticipation, nor would he grovel before Lupin. Severus resolutely put the vials in his luggage and decided to concentrate only on the trip.

Hopefully his colleague knew what he was doing, Severus thought as he looked over at the potions laboratory, where the Wolfsbane Potion was simmering on a low flame. Nightalps, according to the relevant reading, were not difficult to overpower if - and this was the tricky part - you tracked them down before they had messed with your mind. The creatures could make themselves invisible, like the Demiguise, and their whispers were persistent, resisting many spells. Doubtingly, Severus let his gaze wander over the supply shelves. Actually, such an expedition required special equipment. But no special equipment could be put together in two days. In case of emergency, however, he should at least have a few potions at hand to strengthen his mental resistance. Even if Lupin seemed to know more about his subject than Lockhart - who relied on others was forsaken! Severus quickly took three bottles of Clearmind Serum from the shelf, went back into the bedroom and packed the last things into his travelling bag. When he had closed the buckles, he took one last sad look over in the laboratory at the Merlin Academy box that would remain locked that weekend, ladled the hot Wolfsbane Potion into a cup, extinguished the fire and set off into the venture.

Lupin had taken more precautions than expected, as he immediately noticed when he entered the furnished office. Next to a large, round cage, an oblong wooden trunk bearing the Hogwarts emblem, a small tote bag and a well-filled duffel bag with two long-radius sneakoscopes tied to it were stored on the floor. The householder himself, judging by the sounds, was still scurrying around the bedroom packing trunks. Nervously, Severus looked around the room and finally found a clock on a stack of wooden boxes. The hands were at six to one. If Lupin didn't hurry, they would still miss the portkey. But at that moment the door opened.

"Ah, Severus, good to see you. Ready for the journey?" his colleague greeted Severus in a visibly good mood. A warm smile flitted across his lips as the old Gryffindor scarf around his neck fell teasingly onto his travelling cloak and his light brown hair shone in the midday sun. For some reason, the sight made Severus' unusually good mood rise even higher and a spark of adventurousness tingled in his veins as the cup of Wolfsbane Potion changed hands. Against his will, he had to admit that his colleague looked quite passable even in daylight, as he emptied his medicine.

"What are we travelling with?" asked Severus when his counterpart had set the cup down.

Lupin, who was now picking up the luggage, nodded towards the desk hidden behind a wall of boxes, "They're on the windowsill."

Severus followed the finger pointing, but found only a pot of cyclamen on the windowsill. Frowning, he turned to his colleague who was coming up behind him, heavily laden and groaning.

"The flowers?!" he asked incredulously.

"Yes," Lupin gasped, setting the luggage down once more and casting a featherlight spell over it. Silently they placed their hands close together on the terracotta pot and waited for time to pass.Warmth, probably still from the Wolfsbane Potion, flowed from Lupin's fingers into Severus'. Then, with the chime: a crack at the navel and the office disappeared.

Severus landed on a patch of snow and felt a cool, fresh breeze around his nose. The feeling in his fingertips disappeared instantly as his colleague took the violets and stowed them in the duffel bag. When the swirling snow cleared the view again, a breathtaking mountain landscape spread out before his eyes. Bluish grey mountains stretched pointedly towards the sky and their snow-covered crests lay in the hazy glow of the winter sun.

"Lovely here, isn't it?" asked the dark, soft voice beside him.

"Quite alright," Severus replied thoughtlessly. When he turned his head slightly and Lupin's face came into his field of vision, to his amazement there was disappointment in the latter's expression. In a jerk, Lupin packed her things and went ahead. Severus didn't bother to acknowledge his companion's odd behaviour with more than a dark look and feasted his eyes on the scenery for a moment longer.

"Come, we should take up our quarters!" shouted Lupin to him from a distance. At last Severus tore himself away and trudged after him through the snowfield. They came to a winding footpath that seemed to lead past a dense, dark coniferous forest from their high ground a little way down into the valley. After a walk of perhaps a quarter of an hour, they reached a small mountain village - and left it to the left. A narrow trail led into the middle of the forest.

"For Muggle defence," Lupin muttered after a few steps. But before Severus could ask what he meant by that, he saw it for himself. A wide clearing opened up and in front of them, directly under a rocky outcrop, stood a building: a warped house, curiously put together from all sorts of set pieces, with a whitewashed and wood-panelled façade on the upper floors, several sloping balconies running all around, flower boxes in front of green shutters and a large flag made of white and blue rhombs waving down from the mighty roof.

"This is it," Lupin explained tersely, "Geissenpeter's Hexenhäusl. Surely we'll have a pleasant time here."

Severus replied nothing. With a growing feeling of being in the wrong place, he covered the last two hundred yards to their lodgings in silence. Approaching, he discovered that the façade was also decorated with some wooden paintings. Here a girl with two braided plaits and a strange apron dress flew past a group of deer on a child's broomstick, there a boy with too-short dungarees and a strange hat turned a herd of goats into fir trees. And a sign was emblazoned above the entrance door:

WO ELFENHÄNDE EIFRIG WALTEN  
DA BLEIBT DAS GLÜCK IM HAUS ERHALTEN*

He could decipher the letters and syllables, but he did not understand a word of what was written there. Only when they had entered did he realise what it meant.

„A Servus! Sie soan die Briten, nicht woa?“** the man at the reception greeted them in a harsh, choppy language. And the scales fell from Severus' eyes: of course! They were in Germany and the innkeepers spoke German. Anger flared up inside him. Anger at himself. He had planned a trip abroad and forgotten the most important thing: make sure you can communicate! There were spells that bridged a lack of language skills, but Severus couldn't think of any. The annoyance tipped over into despair. Lupin, however, seemed calm. Without even registering his tension, he nodded to the innkeeper, answered in equally harsh terms, and not half a minute later handed one of two keys to Severus.

"Our rooms are on the first floor," he explained cheerfully, "Would you like me to escort you upstairs quickly? The floor is a bit twisty."

"No," Severus replied absently, once again watching his counterpart's expression darken in irritation.

"Very well, as you wish," Lupin replied calmly, picking up the luggage and stepping onto the stairs. As if paralysed, Severus watched him go. Where by Merlin's beard had his colleague learned such fluent German? Astonished and - which he would never have admitted - also grateful to have been saved from the misery, he picked up his travel bag again and followed Lupin.

Light snowflakes were dancing in front of Severus' nose when they saw each other again.

"I am curious to see if our hunt will be successful. It would certainly be very interesting for the upper classes, although I haven't yet come up with a lesson outline for such a lesson. Do you perhaps have an idea?", Lupin finished their little exchange on how to proceed.

Severus, who had just taken another look around, noticed and frowned. So far, he had passed over his companion's little questions. But this was hard to ignore. Was Lupin trying to engage him in a personal conversation? The thought made Severus feel giddy.

"I don't know, I teach Potions," he defended himself, watching, half with satisfaction and half in disappointment as Lupin hastily turned away from him. What the hell was going on!

"We'd better hurry. It will be pitch dark in a few hours," his counterpart broke through his thoughts and looked up into the clouds that streaked the mountain above the dark treetops. In view of the winter sky, Severus put his alienation to rest. Would they make it in time? In daylight, the Nightalps slept invisible and hidden in the many nameless rock caves, somewhere in the vast mountain forests that surrounded the village. And right there, in front of the entrance to their sleeping place, Lupin planned to encircle them before nightfall. Frowning, Severus let his gaze wander over the mountains that spread out around the clearing like an endless, stony sea.

"And you think this will work? They could be anywhere, Lupin," he mused. True, his good reading included a treatise on how to detect the tracks of night alves. But without practical training, the endeavour seemed hopeless. "Perhaps we should wait until they descend into the village in the night itself," he said.

"The village is protected by a banishing circle and countless spells," Lupin replied soberly. Severus remained silent. He had noticed the pentagrams on the threshold and 'Schleiferseppl's handy one-hole banstone, standard size 3' dangling from a ribbon under his window sill, of course. He just wanted to express his displeasure. This whole planning of this hunt seemed far too naïve and far too chaotic to him. But Lupin, who was somewhere out of sight behind his back, did not continue. When he still hadn't said anything after almost a minute, Severus turned to look at him in amazement. His companion had disappeared.

It was only at second glance that Severus found him again: a small dot crouching in front of the edge of the forest, seemingly investigating something on the ground. With an angry snort, Severus stomped over to his colleague, whose strange behaviour was beginning to gnaw at his nerves. Why, again, had he gone on this trip!

"Can't you -" _wait for me_ , he wanted to snarl at Lupin, but Lupin raised his hand to command him to be silent and pointed down into the snow. "They're still quite fresh, maybe from last night."

Severus stretched his nose over the forest floor and all at once his anger was blown away. There were animal tracks in the snow and one of them was a perfect example of a Pentacle.

"Are you sure?" he asked sceptically.

"Quite sure," Lupin replied, pointing up to the rock that touched the forest at this point, "They often take this path. It gives them a good view of the path, so they have an easy time if a hiker strays here late at night or someone sleeps out in the open on the alpine meadow in summer."

Apparently he hadn't just asked the innkeeper for the keys.

Severus was still mentally occupied with their lucky find when Lupin drew his wand and pointed it at the cliff face.

"Revelio Vestigium!"

Quickly he looked up as suddenly streaks of neon yellow began to glow in the rock. Involuntarily, Severus' mouth fell open at the play of light. Of course, he too had read about this spell that revealed the magical traces Nightalps left behind in their invisible form. But he had not expected someone untrained to achieve such a storybook result on the first try. Generations of dilettante students had made him clever. Was his colleague a God-given talent?! Doubtingly, he studied Lupin's profile from the corner of his eye as Lupin bent straight down and nimbly opened the duffel bag. Something, Severus couldn't put his finger on it, seemed strange about the whole thing. A quiet suspicion that crept up from the shallows of his subconscious.

"So how do we get up there?" he asked, trying to mask his uncertainty.

"With this," Lupin replied, pulling out of the duffel bag, which immediately went limp in response, a kind of hollowed-out turtle shell from whose edge grew sharp clawed hands.

"What's that?" asked Severus, his eyes wide.

"A climbing gondola," Remus replied promptly, smiling, "I've hired it from the European Federation of Magical Mountain Climbers until tomorrow morning. I think it needs a bit more space for the two of us, though." He tapped a golden spot in the tank with his wand and the gondola expanded. When it had reached a stately size, he held it against the rock and the claws immediately clawed into the rock.

"After you!", Lupin politely asked Severus into the vehicle and a moment later they were climbing the slope in a bumpy ride.

They followed the track in the snow and the magic imprints in the rock for about one and a half hours criss-crossing the mountain wilderness until they finally reached the entrance to a rock cave around which all the tracks were clustered. Severus had also succeeded once in creating a faint glow in the rock during their arduous journey. But he would have been lost without Lupin as his guide. Against his will, he began to feel a certain respect for his colleague's abilities and at the same time felt increasingly like a useless appendage. Again he wondered why he was going along with this; why Lupin had brought him along at all if Lupin was just going to chase him around. His lust for adventure had completely evaporated. With difficulty, Severus resisted the urge to give his companion a good telling off, and wondered silently when he would get the chance to buy himself out of his saviour's debt. For that was the one and only, the real reason for all the flea-biting of the last few weeks, wasn't it? Guilt like a cutting shackle! It was only when Lupin unrolled from the school's wooden trunk a roll of Tasmano's magic all-purpose armour tape, invisibly interwoven with umpteen spells to keep both Muggles and magical beings out, and asked him to help him erect the magical barrier, that Severus' presence on this trip finally took on a purpose, albeit a rather minor one. As the first reddish glow was already descending on the hilltops, Lupin set the sneakoscope to the range all the way back to their lodgings and they made their way home. All the while, his companion kept trying to strike up a conversation. But Severus' mood was still on the decline and so it was probably due to his stoic taciturnity that Lupin finally gave up and left him to his strange displeasure.

The descent was completed more quickly than the ascent and they arrived at the threshold of Geißenpeter's Hexenhäusl by nightfall. Smoke was rising from the chimney and the air was saturated with the hearty smell of cooking food. Severus had actually planned to spend the hours until nightfall alone in his room. But his stomach growled and he was frozen to the bone. So it was with a slight uneasiness that he followed Lupin into the dining hall to treat himself to a warm supper. Fortunately, it was empty except for a six-person group at the regulars' table and an old, gasping man in a seating alcove. The low roof, the wooden panelling, the tiled stove with bench and cushions, and the cupboard decorated with hand-paintings in one corner gave the room something rustic. The warmth soon thawed Severus' limbs and something like a sense of well-being returned to him. But as he sat down with Lupin at one of the massive wooden tables and studied the menu by candlelight, despair rose within him. 'Butterbier' was the only word he could decipher, as it resembled the English word except for one letter. The rest of the menu, however, was a closed book and apart from the decorative drawings that moved, there was nothing magical about it. His colleague, who had been hiding behind a copy of the Daily Prophet he had brought with him, peered curiously over the edge of the paper.

"If you want to try something local, I can recommend the number five as a starter and then the number twelve," he remarked quietly.

Severus didn't get to ask what that was all about. Already a house elf was heading towards them to take their order. He had no choice. Feeling idiotic, he pointed to the butterbeer and the two numbers. Only a little later, the food arrived at the table along with the drinks. A cup of steaming clear soup and a board with a bowl of coleslaw, an oddly convoluted savoury biscuit, two pale sausages and a dollop of coarse-grained mustard were set down in front of Severus' nose. Lupin had almost the same, except that his mustard and sausages had been replaced by two small bowls: one with a sticky, cheese-like mass and one with what appeared to be raw minced meat.

"Bon appetit," he wished, putting the newspaper aside and dipping his spoon into the soup.

They had just finished the starter when he cleared his throat.

"I hope everything will go well tonight. Chasing Nightalps is different from everyday life at Hogwarts after all," he remarked introspectively.

Severus didn't know what to say in reply. He felt uncomfortable in these cold mountains. And his colleague's face, although the candlelight gave it something friendly, was only a faint reminder of home. So Severus wordlessly dipped one of the sausages into the mustard stain and bit into it heartily.

"The skin doesn't get eaten!" his companion remarked in quiet horror as Severus struggled with his food. After some pulling and chewing, he managed to suck some sausage meat out of the sausage casing. Lupin eyed him oddly, a hint of red - it might have been from the dim light - flitting across his cheeks, then averted his gaze to look at one of the paintings on the wall. While Severus let his eyes wander over the profile of his counterpart, he remembered what he had been puzzling over all the time. Lupin was surprisingly familiar with the Nightalps and German customs.

"There are quite a few myths and legends here in the region, even in the fairy tales of the Muggles," he remarked as if to prove it, "In the village over there, everyone knows the story of poor Rosl, who bore a child to a Nightalp, and it's thanks to the wizards and witches under this roof that the Muggles have forgotten the true kernel of that legend." He looked at Severus uncertainly and Severus felt his curiosity awaken against his will.

"What true kernel?" he asked between bites of the savoury biscuit, which to his surprise tasted quite good. Lupin took a sip from his butterbeer glass, then interlaced his hands, leaned forward and began to tell.

Later, Severus would not have been able to say how it had come about; what had broken the ice between them and thwarted his intention to just warm up quickly and get something between his teeth. He was not particularly talkative and certainly not sociable. And yet he soon found himself in a lively conversation with his table neighbour that made the time flow like butterbeer. How Lupin had managed to draw him out remained a mystery to him, but to his surprise, his colleague proved to be quite a good conversationalist. Most of the time they talked shop about black magic and the fight against it and even if Lupin still lacked expertise in some areas, Severus had to admit that he had never met a more worthy counterpart for such a dispute. With most people around him, only rubbish spilled out as soon as they opened their mouths. Small talk in the staff room, hackneyed phrases, an unbearable babble. Or, like Dumbledore, they spoke in riddles. This conversation with Lupin, however, was of a completely different nature.

Finally, Severus drained his butterbeer, set the glass aside, satisfied and sated, and let his gaze wander around the room. He had not known how much he had missed such conversation. He almost felt like a dried-up sponge that had suddenly been submerged in water. But how could that be? How could it be that he discussed with a man who had just been an enemy and was now no more than a colleague, as if with a friend? Only Lupin's small, tentative attempts to steer their conversation towards more private matters bothered him. Furtively, Severus cast a sidelong glance at his companion. Golden candlelight still shone in Lupin's light brown hair.

In the meantime, the plates had been emptied and carried away, the group around the regulars' table had broken up and the gasping man at the table had dozed off. Silence had descended on the dining room and the candles melted into little stubs of wax in their holders. Severus turned his head towards the bull's-eye windows and tried to peer out through the reflections of the lights. Thick snowfall blocked his view. And all at once an aura of melancholy embraced him. It was as if the silence of nature broke through the panes and now surrounded him like a cool breeze. The last word between him and Lupin had been spoken a while ago, as if they had both emptied their minds. Severus' thoughts wandered into the far distance.

"Do you think we will have an arduous climb in this snowfall?" he spoke more to himself. He loved winter and hated it at the same time. The inhospitable weather and the early darkness allowed him to retreat to his dungeons already in the afternoon without anyone looking for him. But it also meant having to stay down there alone for a long time, and gloomy memories loved nothing more than loneliness.

"No, it's usually too cold for snowfall at night this time of year above the village. I suppose we'll go up under starry skies," Lupin replied quietly.

Once again amazed at the strange confidence, Severus looked him square in the face. And what had been running through his mind the whole time they were ascending finally found its way to his lips.

"How do you know all this?"

Lupin, who had become engrossed in his paper again, was slow to look up.

"What do you mean?" he asked in a strained voice.

"This place, the Nightalps, the language...," Severus enumerated.

His companion didn't answer, just seemed to swallow a lump in his throat and now looked in his turn at the window. Then, suddenly, he rolled up the paper, presented Severus with one of the Meanwhile, the plates had been emptied and cleared away, the company at the regulars' table had broken up and the rattling man at the table had dozed off. Silence had descended on the dining room and the candles melted into little stubs of wax in their holders. Severus turned his head towards the bull's-eye windows and tried to peer out through the reflections of the lights. Thick snowfall blocked his view. And all at once an air of melancholy enveloped him. It was as if the silence of nature broke through the panes and now surrounded him like a cool breeze. The last word between him and Lupin had been spoken a while ago, as if they had both emptied their minds. Severus' thoughts wandered into the far distance.

"Do you think we will have an arduous climb in this snowfall?" he spoke more to himself. He loved winter and hated it at the same time. The inhospitable weather and the early darkness allowed him to retreat to his dungeons already in the afternoon without anyone looking for him. But it also meant having to stay down there alone for a long time, and gloomy memories loved nothing more than loneliness.

"No, it's usually too cold for snowfall at night this time of year above the village. I suppose we'll go up under starry skies," Lupin replied quietly.

Once again amazed at the strange confidence, Severus looked him square in the face. And what had been running through his mind the whole time they were ascending finally found its way to his lips.

"How do you know everything?"

Lupin, who had become engrossed in his paper again, was slow to look up.

"What do you mean?" he asked in a strained voice.

"This place, the Night Talves, the language...," Severus enumerated.

His companion didn't answer, just seemed to swallow a lump in his throat and now looked in his turn at the window. Then, suddenly, he rolled up the paper, placed one of the Sneakoscopes on the table for Severus and stood up.

"It's going to be a long night. I'm going to sleep, see you later," he said goodbye and turned away.

Severus looked after him, frowning. An icy rebuff - was there any clearer indication of secrecy?! Involuntarily he snorted inside himself. But Lupin must have had good ears. Because just before the stairs leading up from the taproom to the first floor, he suddenly turned to Severus once more, eyed him and sighed.

"Winters are hard when you don't have a Knut in your pocket," he explained in a harsh tone, "because you can't find work because you're well _like me_."

He cast a curt, sombre glance at the empty tables and finally lingered on a stuffed Nightalp on the tiled stove, which had a petrified thread of saliva dripping from its mouth. Then he turned and left.

Severus watched him go, watched his silhouette blur with the shadows in the stairwell. The meaning of the words seeped through to him only slowly and when he finally understood, the shock failed to sink in and the realisation fell into a vacuum. Hadn't he basically known it all along and was just looking for confirmation? A few weeks ago, he would have known how to use this explosive information. But Severus could no longer lead his lifesaver to the judgement block and, to his amazement, he didn't want to. Let Lupin supplement his household budget with petty smuggling. He was not the Wizengamot. He was a potions master who did not want to let the precious commodity slip through his fingers himself that night. The footsteps on the stairs had faded by now. Severus averted his eyes and looked at the empty butterbeer glasses on the table. It was hard for him to admit it to himself, but without Lupin he felt alone and lost in this world that spoke a language he did not understand. A strange pang of regret rose in him, without knowing what he was actually regretting. Then, abruptly, Severus got up and decided to forget that evening in his sleep. All at once, a wish had awakened in him that confused him: he wished Remus Lupin had stayed a little longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * "where elf hand rule eagerly. there happiness remains in the house" - Allusion to a house blessing (in the original loving and mothers instead of eagerly and elves)  
> ** "Ah! Good afternoon, you are the Brits, aren't you?"


	28. Dangerous hunt

The night was deep when the sneakoscope jolted Severus out of his sleep, buzzing loudly. Startled, he flung aside the covers, grabbed the wand from the bedside table in reflex and shot up. His gaze swept the narrow window of the chamber as the half-sleep cleared. Lupin had been right. A waxing moon shone in a sea of brilliant stars. Not a snowflake trickled to earth. Frost turned the breath even on this side of the chamber into a white haze. Shivering, Severus stepped to his wardrobe in the pale light of the night star, plucked the robe from the hanger and hastily dressed. Goosebumps spread up his arm as the fabric slid over his skin. Nervously, he took one last look at the transom windows while he put the empty flasks and his potions into the pocket of his travelling cloak. The time had come! Only the climb now separated him from the Nightalps. He quickly swung his old scarf around his neck, silenced the Sneakoscope with a flick of his wand and stepped out into the hallway.

A cold draught swept across the floorboards as if a door were open somewhere. But with two steps Severus had reached the room diagonally opposite and knocked. Everything remained silent. Puzzled, he stared at the dark wood in the moonlight. It had been agreed that they would meet as soon as the Sneakoscope alerted them. Was Lupin lying on his ears?! Energetically, Severus grabbed the handle, pushed it through. But the door to his colleague's quarters did not retreat an inch. Annoyed, he let go as at the same moment a glint from the side brushed the corner of his eye. Immediately Severus turned and now he knew where the draught was coming from. Across the steps of the nearby staircase to the dining hall, an illuminated wand was wandering towards him. And behind it: Lupin's face.  
"Why did you lock it?" asked Severus, a little too gruffly. His companion's gaze darkened as he eyed Severus for a blink.  
"I don't like it when someone invades my room behind my back," he then replied calmly, but with an undertone that made Severus shiver. It was as if the snow had started to fall again and a shiver ran through his body. What was that insinuation?! He never intended to... but all at once the memories of a night in early September came flooding back and Severus' mouth went dry. He knew he couldn't make a sound. It was as if it was not his once hated colleague who had rebuked him, but Dumbledore. Dumbledore, whom he held in high esteem. And the memory was like the dust on a photograph that had become alien to him. Again he felt the flea tingle.  
Lupin, however, did not seem to be bothered by it. With his wand, he released the spell from his threshold and entered, asking Severus to follow him. It was only in the room, as the clatter dispelled the old images, that Severus became aware that Lupin was carrying a large pewter pot and was setting it down on the table in front of the window.  
"I've been down to the kitchen again, had the two house elves brew us some Jagertee* so we can warm up a bit on the way up. It's very cold outside," he explained as he got ready. Then, when the provisions were also stowed, he finally looked Severus in the face.  
"Are you ready?" he asked.  
Severus nodded curtly.  
A mild smile stole across Lupins' lips. Then he drew his wand and pointed it at the equipment, "Locomotor luggage."

With a loud rumble that surprisingly did not seem to wake a soul, they passed the stairs and left Geißenpeter's Hexenhäusl behind them. A harsh wind whistled around Severus' ears and the inhospitable climate drove the frost into his limbs, even he who normally never froze. Lupin, on the other hand, whose cheeks turned a slight shade of red in the bone-chilling cold, as they had in his teenager days, didn't seem to freeze so much. Perhaps he had already treated himself to a cup of tea, Severus thought, and conjured up a few flames in one of the empty flasks, which at least warmed his hands a little. A cloudless sea of stars stretched over their heads and it was as if they were ascending from a dark abyss into the sky as the climbing gondola ascended the jagged rocks. Severus felt a tingle that he had perhaps last felt as a schoolboy when he first boarded the Hogwarts Express. He inched closer to the Nightalps, and the closer he got to them, the more Remus Lupin faded from his awareness, until....

"We're here!" the soft voice stated the obvious as their vehicle stopped. Shakily, Severus stepped out of the gondola. They had arrived at the rocky summit and before their eyes the dark valley spread out in the moonlight. When they had unloaded the equipment and stowed the vehicle, Severus took one last look into the depths. Pillars of smoke were rising somewhere down there. Was that the Muggle village? Lupin had also paused and let his gaze wander over the area.  
"Breathtaking, isn't it? Very different from the dungeons of Hogwarts," he remarked quietly.  
Severus stared at his colleague. He had heard similar things from him at midday and again he felt queasy. Was Lupin trying to probe his life? He wanted to retort something mean, to push his counterpart away, but the words stuck in his throat. Lupin was right. The sight _was_ breathtaking. So silent and majestic that even he was speechless. But he didn't want to embarrass himself in front of his colleague either, with the sinking feeling in his stomach. Silently and without a backward glance, Severus stepped towards the small copse they had left that afternoon. Something rumbled inside him as if he were at odds with himself. Then he heard footsteps behind him, following him through the frozen snow, and Lupin, whom he had left behind without a reply, called his name in a firm voice. Reluctantly, Severus turned. A serious drawl was on his companion's brow.  
"What is it?" asked Severus curtly. Lupin closed in on him before taking a deep breath and then answering in a lowered voice.  
"You should know that I have never before undertaken such a hunt in a group of less than four wizards and witches. It is a high-risk endeavour."  
Severus eyed him appraisingly. Did his companion think him to be naïve?  
"I am aware of all the dangers and am prepared for them," he explained curtly.  
"I know," Lupin replied hastily, "It's just..."  
For a moment he seemed to scan the sky as he continued.  
"The last time fighting broke out in the group, we lost track of One. The Nightalps controlled his mind. The last we saw of him was the shadow swaying over the cliff edge."  
He averted his gaze from the firmament again and now looked Severus directly in the eye. And Severus felt his legs grow heavy under that gaze, as if they were trying to take root in the frozen earth. In the inhospitable cold, where the sky kept the snow with it, something else fell on him, invisible and cold even if he didn't let on about his feelings.  
"We should take good care of each other," Lupin concluded quietly, his voice a breath of wind, his grey-streaked hair a glint of silver in the moonlight, as Severus eyed him and finally nodded gravely. He had understood. Then he remembered something.  
"You said on the way down that there was a shortcut to the cave?"  
"Um...yes," Lupin replied, breaking free of both their torpor and pointing to the other end of the copse, "over there."

The wind seemed to blow more and more icy around their heads, the world seemed to become more and more unreal as they struggled up the mountain to the cave. The spirit of adventure that had inspired Severus at the beginning of their journey had completely vanished. He had not been particularly attached to his life since Lily had given hers for her son. But he had no intention of wasting it in a desert of ice either. As much as he hated to admit it, Lupin was right. They had to rely on each other if they didn't want to fall victim to the Nightalps that night. And once again he secretly asked himself why he had got involved in this expedition, why he had to depend on him of all people. Groaning in the icy cold, they climbed laboriously up the steep path that wound tightly around another rock. Then, abruptly, the path ended in a small pine and after a few steps Severus stood on the forecourt of the cave, where the barrier gleamed in the moonlight only for wizard's eyes. No sound was to be heard, no creature to be seen. But that didn't mean anything. The Nightalps had probably made themselves invisible and the magical barrier isolated their sounds. Lupin closed in on him and as he exchanged a silent glance with him, Severus' pulse began to pick up speed. A flutter ran through his limbs and excitement conquered every other thought. Now was the time! Now it would become clear whether their endeavour would be crowned with success. Severus collected himself briefly, then climbed over the ribbon behind his companion.

At first, nothing seemed to have changed. Deep silence filled the area. Severus listened intently to the soundlessness. Then all at once it hit him as if someone was speaking directly in his head. From all sides, the whisper of numerous voices flooded in, whispering and yet strangely loud. Less a tone than pure sounds. Once, in his Death Eater days, he had listened to a gong in Lucius' Manor and the whispering of the Nightalps was much the same. It penetrated him inexorably, set everything vibrating and only seemed to turn into sounds in his brain. The voices were distorted like echoes, the words a single jumble, no sense to be taken from them. Drowsiness slowly settled over his mind and seeped down into his limbs. Even as he tried to regain his composure at the first shock of the unfamiliar, the world began to sway before his eyes. Ghostly mist emanated from the snow-covered ground and figures grew out of the swathes. Bony hands, leathery skin. A cross between Dementors and Inferi, tall as a giant. Then one of the creatures stripped off its hood and the bare skull beneath it grew and grew, thrusting towards Severus, ripping the massive jaws apart... in reflex, Severus made a half turn to the left to avoid the bite. At the same instant, a harsh chuckle rang out and the skull faded back into the haze. Anger flared in Severus; anger at having been hoodwinked. _Pull yourself together_ , he said to himself, gritting his teeth. Despite the winter night, sweat broke out on his forehead. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Lupin, who had just drawn his wand. But that was all Severus could see. The atmosphere around him was gradually becoming stuffy, pressing on his chest. With the greatest effort, he inhaled and jerked his wand up.  
"MUFFLIATO!" he gasped, squeezing all the air out of his lungs. A hum mingled with the whispering voices in his head, creating a terrible dissonance. But the spell was not able to drown them out completely. The horror images in the billowing mist changed. Now Acromantula crawled across the snow with grotesquely long legs.  
"SILENCO!" came Lupin's voice faintly into his consciousness. But Severus paid no attention. He squeezed his eyes shut, which had the same effect on his optic nerve as the muffliato had on his hearing. But the Nightalps' words became clearer all at once. With the violence of a commander's voice to a soldier, they gave him their orders.  
"Hex him, curse him, he is your enemy! Without him you would be free," the chorus murmured in his head, bringing to the surface something that was still barely dead and buried. For a moment Severus dithered, seeming to succumb to temptation. Weren't the Nightalps speaking the truth? But then he pulled himself together and mustered all the willpower he was capable of. Words, still half-conscious, flew from his scabbard like flaming swords.  
"No, he is not my enemy," he replied vigorously to the Nightalps, astonished himself at what he said, "I would be lost without him!"  
For a moment, the voices sank back into indistinct whispers and Severus hastily drew his most powerful weapon: the Occlumency he had learned under Voldemort. With all his might, he forced the whisper out of his mind. It was a hard, tough fight. The voices worked differently than any human spell, breaking through his inner wall again and again. His thoughts and feelings almost slipped away, which he tried to keep locked inside. Frantically, Severus recalled what he had read in his reading: _hold the illogic and bizarreness of the apparitions in your mind like a mantra_. Severus heeded the advice and then finally, all at once, there was silence around him, the mists sank and his mind seemed to emerge as if from a dark sea. Severus opened his eyes and looked around for Lupin.

His companion stood not five metres away from him, close to a fir tree, his wand raised straight up so that the light shone directly in his face. He too was struggling to breathe in the thin air. His gaze was glassy, seemed to go nowhere. Suddenly he contorted his face, squeezed his eyelids shut. Doggedly and strained, he muttered incomprehensible words, took a step backwards towards the tree. All at once, a kind of eye mask was stretched over his face and earmuffs like those of Pomona Sprout were put over his ears. For a second, Lupin seemed to shrug off the Nightalps' influence. But then, before he reached the trunk: rigidity. Shrouded in the mist of his breath, he stood paralysed before Severus. The spell dissipated. Only his right hand twitched briefly, the last evidence of an inner struggle.  
" Bloody hell!" grumbled Severus, plucking from his travelling cloak one of the heart-shaped vials of Clearmind Serum.  
"Here, drink this!" he called to Lupin as he hurried to him and pulled the cork. Slowly and shakily, like someone waking from a shock, the latter turned his head around to face him, his gaze still blank. Then, with a gesture of infinite willpower, Lupin grabbed the vial in a flash and downed the midnight blue potion in one go. Severus only watched him for a second as something heavy hit him in the stomach. He had no time to realise what was happening. Already he stumbled and fell. The wand fell from his hand as his body crashed to the ground. Horrified, he felt the air being pressed out of his lungs. He wanted to scream for help, but only a strangled gasp escaped his throat. Seeing his last hour before his eyes, he dared a desperate attempt and fumbled for his wand. Sure enough, his fingers felt the wood and he grabbed it with all his might. His eyelids began to flutter. But through the fluttering he saw a flash of red fly overhead and accurately sweep the invisible something off his chest.  
"STUPOR!", Lupin's voice still boomed in his ears as a small figure with black fur materialised before his eyes in the wand's cone of light and lay motionless in the snow. _Good shot_ , Severus thought as he struggled to his feet. But he was still too dazed to say anything.  
Lupin, meanwhile, did not hesitate. He walked up to the shocked Night Vale, plucked a bristle from his fur and put it into a small metal box, which he now pulled out of his cloak. As soon as he closed the box, it began to glow. Astonished, Severus watched the effect as he walked towards his colleague.  
"Is that..."

"Anti-Disillusionmentum," Lupin confirmed his suspicions. Severus had heard of the powder that could force invisible beings into a visible form if you put a small piece of their DNA into it. Unfortunately, the spell only worked for ten minutes and at a truly extortionate price. While still marvelling at the powder, Lupin slowly levitated the now no longer glowing can into the air through a Wingardium Leviosa and blew it up over their heads, spreading the Anti-Disillusionmentum all over the area. From that moment on, everything happened very quickly. All around them, black-furred Nightalps emerged from the darkness, eight or nine in number, wiggling their bat-like ears in fright and quickly fleeing, but held in place by the fence. A few shock spells later, silence returned. Nothing moved any more. Nothing except a mound of snow near the entrance to the cave, from which suddenly, as if driven by panic, an even smaller, light-brown figure leapt out: a cub. Lupin drew his wand and the Nightalp child also sank unconscious to the ground. Carefully, he carried it to the cage. In the meantime, Severus was tampering with the old animals, catching the saliva that ran from the corners of their mouths. Lupin seemed not to notice his actions or - could it be - deliberately ignored them? While the flasks filled drop by drop, Severus watched his colleague and was suddenly glad to have him with him. This fight could have ended badly had they not stood by each other. They had done a good job, together. In the silence of the wait, Severus remembered the words he had hurled at the Nightalps in the mental battle. He snorted softly. _No enemies_ , of course, as if a foreign tongue had spoken in his mouth. Was this truce, then, nothing more than a contract because Lupin had saved his life?! Severus listened within. But nothing answered, nothing affirmed his judgement. A strange thought crossed his mind as he studied his colleague's back. What if he was not in his debt? Would he disappear right now and leave Lupin to his fate? A tremor ran through Severus. Something about this idea did not sit well with him. Then, all at once, a voice broke through his thoughts.  
"I'm ready. Are you ready?" his colleague urged him to leave. Unseen, Severus let the flask disappear into his robe pocket and silently followed Lupin on his way home. Behind them, on the ledge above the cave, an eerie crackling sounded softly and moved into the pine....

"You must have paid a small fortune. Anti Disillusionmentum is very expensive," Severus remarked casually to break the silence and the circling of his thoughts as they descended the path.  
"No," gasped his companion, who was slithering down an icy patch, holding on to himself and the equipment with difficulty, "All expenses will be paid from Hogwarts' treasury."  
When he had solid ground under his feet again, he paused for a moment and, catching his breath, leaned against the rock that overhung the path at this point, offering some protection from the sharp wind.  
"I must thank you, by the way," he murmured between breaths, "Without you-"  
Suddenly he broke off. A sound high above their heads made them both startle.  
"What was that?!" cried Severus in alarm. But at that moment he saw it himself. At the edge of the overhang, where the path curved around the cliff, an ibex leapt down onto the path in wand light, trailing a trail of gravel drizzle behind it.  
" Oh my goodness!" laughed Lupin, shaking his head as he watched it go. Then he opened his lips to continue. But Severus no longer had ears for it. From his vantage point above the icy patch of path, his eyes had spied something that, in one fell swoop, froze the blood in his veins. A crack! A crack was running rapidly through the rock. Where the goat had just stood, the rock suddenly broke. A chunk bigger than a man fell... fell straight towards Lupin! Severus didn't know what he was doing. His hand found the wand as if by itself. In his mind he could already see the head of grey-brown hair being crushed, then his voice thundered over the massif  
"CONFRINGO!"  
The stone exploded into a projectile of sand and gravel, splashing away in all directions. Startled, Lupin jerked his head up, only to hide it between his arms a split second later, shielding himself from the shower of sand. When the dust had settled and he lowered his arms, sheer horror had wiped any hint of a smile from his face. Motionless, he stood before the precipice, watching the boulders fall into the depths as Severus inspected the sharp fault line above them. It took Severus a moment for his pulse to slow again. Lupin seemed to feel much the same. His expression was serious as their eyes met in the meaningful silence.  
"You saved my life," Lupin remarked in astonishment and awe, "I suppose that means we're even?"  
Severus stumbled.  
"Yes," he then replied curtly, casting a final, thoughtful glance up at the rock. He hadn't expected his thought to come true so quickly. But even less so that it didn't feel as if he had just been cut loose from bonds. On the contrary. For a second, nothing but pure fear for Lupin's life had dominated his mind and that confused him more than anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Austrian tea speciality. Contains black tea and rum


	29. In the middle of the night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CN for this Chapter: Post-traumatic stress disorder

They climbed down the rest of the way to the ledge more carefully, one behind the other. Icy winds swept over the mountains, blowing flakes here and there from the snowy slopes onto them, painting glittering spots on their cloaks in the wand light. For a long time they did not speak a word. But there was nothing heavy or oppressive about the silence. It was like a quiet harmony that needed no words. Severus sensed it: something had changed up there in the rocks between them. Surrounded by the harsh nature of the mountains and countless dangers in their necks that demanded everything of them, they did not return as the same people they had set out as. He felt strange. Half he felt queasy, half he felt safe, while he followed the worn, beige traveling robe of Lupin, the only person who was with him in this inhospitable world. Gradually, exhaustion returned to his bones and with it the cold. Shivering, a yawn escaped Severus as they crossed the small grove near the rock wall to the valley. Beyond the dark conifers, pale stars still twinkled in the firmament, bathing the plain in pale light. Gusts of wind played in his traveling companion's hair as he stopped and rubbed his hands, shivering. Then Lupin turned to Severus and gave him a timid smile. The wandlight painted a glimmer in the brown eyes and Severus slowed his pace as their eyes found each other. Wordlessly, his companion set down the luggage, retrieved a blanket from the duffel bag, and spread it over the frozen ground.  
"Some tea, too?" he asked, and Severus nodded as his counterpart poured them two cups.  
"Thank you," he replied quietly, the first words he had spoken in what seemed like an eternity.

The rest fell into place as if by itself. Soon Severus had also settled down next to his companion on the woolen blanket and let his gaze wander over the alpine landscape. A little warmth flowed through his fingertips, while the glittering sea of heavenly stars made the white peaks around them shimmer and columns of smoke curled up from the depths of the valley. Somewhere in the distance far below them, clouds gathered around the mountains and covered the world with trickling snow. A hint of sadness rose in him and he took a sip of tea that tasted surprisingly like hot alcohol. His thoughts wandered back to a happier past, so that he almost forgot he was not alone up here. Only the pale profile in the corner of his eye, its nose equally turned toward the sky, bore witness to his companion.  
"I like the solitude up here, these expanses between heaven and earth. It's like being close again to friends you lost long ago down there," Lupin finally broke the majestic silence, his voice a whisper heavy with melancholy. Severus, still caught up in his memories, knew what his companion was talking about. Lily stood before him. Lily, whose bright laughter seemed to ring softly among the stars like a distant note. A hint of warmth wafted around him, emanating from the cup and body beside him. Severus sighed heavily. Almost the words pressed to his lips, almost he was about to reveal a small piece of his thoughts to Lupin by agreeing with him. But then he suddenly remembered that the friends his colleague was talking about were Potter and Pettigrew, and the tender touch dissipated like snowdrifts. Something else forced itself into his mind, something far more present. Severus turned his head and took sharp aim at the profile of his colleague, who was still gazing up at the sky, lost in thought.  
"Why did you invite me on this expedition, anyway," he asked straightforwardly, "Just to have someone give you a hand?"  
There was no missing the doubt in his voice. He had been carrying it around with him all along, even if he hadn't been able to grasp it until this second, until this quiet moment. But the attempts to direct their conversation to personal matters and the swearing in of their cohesion, they spoke volumes: There was more to this!   
Lupin didn't answer right away. He lowered his eyes, looked at the Nightalp grimacing at him in his cage, and sighed deeply. Finally, however, he did break the silence.  
"No, not only," he explained as he fed the cub a handful of bread crumbs from his coat pocket. Severus fixed the pale face. Waited as he began to shiver again. Lupin took a deep breath and looked into the distance as he continued.  
"So much has gone wrong in the past. When I returned to Hogwarts almost half a year ago, I had no idea who I would meet. All I had in mind was my picture of you from our school days, and I didn't know what kind of person you had become. Then I found someone who hated me, but also gave everyone else the cold shoulder, yet was faithful and brave in his duties. I found someone who, forgive me, seemed deeply hurt. And I realized that there was much about you that I had missed in my teenager years. Much that I myself was partly to blame for. I thought this trip might do you some good, get you out of your dungeon, and maybe... maybe we could start over again."   
Lupin smiled hesitantly, and for a moment Severus just stared at him. Stared at him as, very slowly, shock overcame him.   
"Perhaps," he then replied coldly, jumping up abruptly and looking around for the duffel bag with the climbing gondola. The spell of the winter night was broken all at once, melted away in the flames of a flaring emotion. Lupin... Lupin had lured him into a trap! Nothing but goody-goody like McGonagall that time she haunted him in the dungeons to preach to him about not shirking the Christmas party. Severus would have loved to snarl at him, but that wouldn't have helped his chances of arriving in the valley in one piece. "Where's the gondola?" he asked soberly.

Lupin, who must have noticed the change in the weather, stood up with a jerk and took out the duffel bag. Not a minute later they were sitting in the vehicle. Not a sound escaped Severus' lips as he looked demonstratively into the distance and felt only the dark, worried gaze of his colleague wandering over him. Silently they arrived in the valley, silently they covered the way to the guesthouse and only when they had also conquered the creaking stairs and the two doors that would separate their paths for the next hours came into their field of vision, Lupin stopped and cleared his throat. Reluctantly, Severus turned.  
"I'm sorry," his colleague stated coolly, "I should have told you of my intentions."  
Severus replied nothing. Without a word, he whirled around and disappeared into his room.

As the door fell into the lock behind him, his anger also fell away from him like a cloak of invisibility that he no longer needed in solitude. His heart, however, was still beating too fast, blood whipping in his veins, although he was freezing. Thoughts assailed him as if they had been lurking somewhere in the corner all along. Lupin was dangerous! Through back doors he had crept into his life piece by piece and had already come too far on the way. He knew too much already! Voldemort, the battle in the castle grounds - what came next? Lily?! No, no! Severus couldn't let himself be lulled any longer by chocolate bars and shift takeovers, by all the little gestures that felt like balm for long-broken wounds. He had to raise the shields again that his colleague's soft weapons had nearly brought down. No one, no one in the world was to be trusted. No one was allowed to expose his hideous weakness. They would all kick him into the dust, as people had done ever since Tobias Snape. As Lupin's friends had done. And the shame of betraying himself - not to be thought of! Luring him out of his dungeon, pah! Lupin might not be quite the enemy he had thought him to be. Instead, he was one of those accursed Good Samaritans who wallowed in their virtue and had no idea that there were sins that sullied one forever, banished forever to the forecourt of hell. He, Severus, had murdered the most innocent, the purest angel. He had betrayed Lily. And for that he would pay eternally.

With these thoughts, Severus went to bed. But although he closed his eyes tightly, he simply could not rest that night. Once again he went through the past eventful day, finding himself in a maelstrom of impressions and emotions that confused him. Something pulsed beneath the thin surface of his consciousness, trying to force its way into his mind. He had forgotten something, overlooked something, and Lily's face flashed incessantly among the fragments of dreams. The already short hours of that night sped by in waking sleep, and when Severus opened his eyes, twilight was already creeping across the alpine glade. A few seconds later, he lifted his legs out of bed and peeled himself out of his nightgown. There was no point in continuing to attempt the impossible. If sleep would not come over him by dawn, perhaps he would find some rest in a short walk before leaving. Hurriedly, Severus dressed, sent word to Lupin of his whereabouts, ordered his yesterday's dinner as breakfast in the nearly empty dining room with a wave of his finger, and dashed out into the square.

Fresh snowy air enveloped him, awakening his spirits like a cool bath. Already with the first breath the demons of the night gave way and he saw only the mountain world before his eyes, clear and beautiful. Crossing the glade, he decided to take a short hike through the coniferous forest between the guesthouse and the village. Dark fir trees soon rose up beside him and the icy forest floor crunched and crackled under his footsteps. High above him, the morning light filtered through the treetops and every now and then he came to rocky outcrops that offered a breathtaking view of the valley. As his path led him across the awakening nature, Severus thought about how he should deal with Lupin in the future. The easiest would probably be to ignore him again. No petty war, but also nothing beyond a brief exchange of glances in the staff room. He would be a colleague like Professor Flitwick or Madame Sprout were. Yes, that would be best. With his mind made up and his steps liberated, Severus entered a hiking trail that crossed his path and followed it to the edge of the forest. He felt invigorated enough to return to their inn. But the path did not end in the glade.

Severus found himself on the side of a wide, asphalt road at the edge of the village, which passed close to the mountain. Disoriented, he looked around, when suddenly thunderous sirens sounded somewhere. He jerked his head around. All at once, a Muggle vehicle in white and neon red paint shot around the corner. Arrow-fast, roaring, and emitting iridescent blue light. Severus was blinded, then rubbed his eyes. He knew he should have turned back, but curiosity got the better of him for a moment. This had certainly been no ordinary car! He followed the road. Murmurs of voices flew toward him as he reached the next curve: _Is she responsive? Hello, can you hear me? Oh God, how terrible, just here at the stop! And no sign warning of avalanche danger!_

Severus understood nothing. But when he passed the curve, he saw it with his own eyes. The vehicle had come to a stop in front of a pile of snow that had crushed and buried half of the roof of a shelter. Muggles with haggard faces clustered around it all the way down to the street. And between them, people in garish jackets scurried about, dragging equipment and a stretcher from the conspicuous car; setting them down on the ground where something lay. Severus stepped closer to get a better look - and stopped, frozen in a pillar of salt. Among the crowd, whimpering softly, lay a woman. Shards of debris surrounded her, and blood seeped into the snow from a wound on her forehead. The sight struck Severus like a shock spell from ambush. His breath seemed to catch. The woman, her hair...red hair spread across the snow.

LILY!

Lily. It was the thirtieth of January. It was _her_ birthday. Severus could no longer feel his heart beating. The scenery suddenly passed before his eyes as if in slow motion. Shouts, movements, sounds, gestures, everything as if wrapped in absorbent cotton. Swaying, he stepped backwards, breathless. Something threatened to rise from the depths of his soul. Images, horrible images, which he usually kept so well in check, sounds, smells of rubble and ashes and blood. Desperately, Severus searched for his occlumency. But too late! The attack came too quickly, too suddenly, knocking out his defenses. He looked up. The tower of a nearby church came into his field of vision. Before his head had thought it through, his feet had already made the decision. He ran, ran away from the horror. Faces, words, impressions - they all flew past him. Only out of the corner of his eye did he see someone he knew step out of the wooden hut across the street, which no Muggle seemed to notice, and give him a worried look. But by then the image had passed him by. The world wavered before his eyes.

Finally, _finally_ , he reached the steps of the little church and yanked open the portal door. The chapel was in the deepest night, with only a few sacrificial candles burning redly in the gloom. Severus plunged into the darkness and collapsed onto one of the pews just before the altar. " Damn it," he gasped. His heart was pounding, sweat pouring. He gasped for air as memories rose to new life from the shadows and began to encircle him. He was no longer here in a mountain village in Bavaria, the debris of Godric's Hollow peeled ghostly from the pews and his mind drowned in the force of impressions flooding in on him from within: the stairs, the smell of dust, salt taste in his mouth, throat tightened, fingers clammy, the door, the bedroom, the red hair... the red hair... the red hair in the pool of blood!

Energetically, Severus clawed into the wood of the pew as he grew hot and cold, struggling with all his might to regain control of the whipped-up emotions, to lock the memories back into their moth-eaten box. Trembling, he looked up at the church sky that hung over him like a sword of Damocles, threatening to break into pieces and come crashing down on him.  
"Merlin, don't make me lose my mind!" he croaked up at the ceiling. A slim ribbon of light suddenly surged into the church darkness, grazing Severus's eyes. Footsteps sounded on the marble of the floor. And to his plea, a calm voice answered, "Don't worry, you're still in your right mind!"  
Severus jerked his head around. In the diminishing cone of light from the slowly closing church door, standing next to his pew was, of all people, Remus Lupin. He wore Muggle clothes - and at his side hung strangely limp his duffel bag.  
The sight of him and the words snapped Severus out of his visions of terror for a moment, and yet he did not want to see him, him of all people. _Go away_ , he thought, and fixed his gaze stubbornly on the altar again. He must have said it aloud, because the next moment he heard footsteps moving away on the marble floor. There, suddenly, panic overcame him. Lupin was the only person who might be able to help him if he lost this fight.  
"No, stay!" gasped Severus the few words his martyred mind could manage. The footsteps returned as he sank weakly back into the pew. Behind him, he could hear Lupin speaking. But Severus was no longer able to listen. The war within him demanded everything of him. Through the veils of his clouded consciousness, he was only peripherally aware of his colleague leaning over him, warm eyes lowering on him.  
"Is there anything I can do for you? Would you like a glass of water, perhaps?" the lips whispered in front of him. It was the only thing Lupin said.  
Severus nodded curtly. Shortly after, his companion disappeared towards the altar, while he himself closed his eyes and concentrated on feeling nothing more, on pressing all thoughts out of his mind. When he opened them again, Lupin stood before him with a chalice.  
"Aguamenti," he spoke, and water bubbled into the drinking vessel, which he handed to Severus a moment later. Severus grasped the cup with a single jerk, brought it to his lips, and drank. As the water wet his mouth; as something real ran through his body, the spell broke. It was like an inner cleansing that washed the horror of the past from him. After the horrors receded from him and the church resumed its contours, he sank back onto the pew. His head was pounding and, to his horror, he felt exhaustion bring tears to his eyes. Hastily, he turned his head toward the wall so as not to expose himself to Lupin.  
"Are you feeling better?" the latter asked warmly.  
"Yes, thank you," Severus gasped a little too gruffly, "Please, leave me alone!"  
For a split second he felt his companion's eyes on him. Then the glimmer of the altar candles fell obliquely into his eyes. His counterpart had turned away.   
"Well, see you later," Lupin replied hesitantly. And added, "I'd better leave this in case you need it."   
Out of the corner of his eye, Severus noticed his colleague placing something next to him on the pew, then echoing footsteps on the marble moved away. Briefly, Severus closed his eyes, took a breath, and tried to regain his strength. The entire seizure had lasted perhaps ten minutes, but it seemed much longer. When he had regained his composure, he slowly turned back to the church. And his eyes widened when he saw what Lupin had left behind. It was a clean cloth handkerchief, ideal for drying tears. Surprised, Severus jerked his head around to the doorway, looking for his savior in the darkness. But by then the church door was already slamming shut.

Dazed, Severus turned around again and stared at the altar. Only slowly did it dawn on him what had just happened, and icy goose bumps crept over his body. The horror seized him creeping like poison. It had been a long, long time since such a breakdown had brought him to his knees. Normally he had himself and the memories well under control, at least during the day. But the coincidence of this accident in the village had caught him off guard. And so far, only one person besides Dumbledore had ever surprised him in such a state. It had been Poppy, in his third Potions Master year, who had first eyed him like an insect under a magnifying glass, then bombarded him with questions, and finally slammed a vial of Draught of Peace on his table. The experience was still a horrible memory for him and another reason why he avoided the infirmary like the plague. And today? With a silent shiver, Severus turned once more to the church door, while the cold sweat of fear clung to the back of his neck. But when he found only the red glow of the offertory, his heartbeat calmed again. He was alone. And the solitude his colleague had left behind, a relief. No squeezing, no probing, no kicking his feet and feasting on his suffering, his weakness. No invading spheres that Severus wanted to bury deep inside. Remus Lupin had just been there, just been there....

All at once Severus frowned in wonder. Hastily, he jerked his head around to take a third look at the church door, not knowing what but emptiness he expected to find there. Then, with a vacuum in his chest, he looked at the altar again and let his gaze wander further, up to the ceiling, where angels circled protectively above the churchgoers. A quiet voice in his head whispered that he should feel shame at his collapse. But he felt no shame. Nothing stirred in him except a vague thought, as delicate as falling snow: it was over and he had survived it.


	30. Severus' contemplation

The shame returned. After Severus had stared at the ceiling for a while and his astonishment had subsided, anger at himself flared up with double force. What a wimp he had been! How had he let himself go like that, and then attract witnesses to boot!!! That woman out there, whoever she might be, was not dead. And certainly her name wasn't Evans! He was an idiot, a bloody idiot. Snorting, Severus uttered a tergeo over the handkerchief he had utterly crumpled in his anger, tucked it into his robe pocket, and stomped out of the church.

By now, the crowd in front of the cottage had dissipated and only a handful of Muggles were still looking at the collapsed roof and the mass of snow that had brought it down. As Severus passed them, two heads turned to look at him.  
"Herr Pfarrer!" a woman's voice called after him. Severus didn't know what she was babbling about, but he whirled around in a flash, drew his wand, and erased himself from her memory as well as that of the other Muggles. Then he hurriedly disappeared again into the forest that led to Geissenpeter's Hexenhäusl. Still on the way to the guesthouse, between the dense coniferous trees, he locked all feelings and all thoughts inside himself. He wanted to spare himself the embarrassment of having to look Lupin in the eye and show just one emotion. He wanted to pretend that the last half hour had never happened. Behind him, the church bell chimed loudly at eleven o'clock.

  
Taking one last deep breath, with the old travel bag in his other hand, Severus knocked on the door of the next room. A muffled "Come in!" rang out to him, and with an extremely sinking feeling in his stomach, Severus entered. As he had done the day before - had it really been less than 24 hours? - Lupin was still busy with a few final touches. A strange trepidation gripped Severus as he saw him scurrying around the room as if they were ordinary roommates on an ordinary day of departure. Only when his colleague looked up and greeted Severus with a friendly smile, his mood changed. The diffuse feeling condensed into a lump in his throat, and if Severus hadn't kept himself so well under control, the blush would probably have risen to his face at that moment. Lupin's lips were still trembling, and for a moment Severus feared the worst: that his colleague would rehash the whole embarrassment. The thought made him tense. Stiff as a board, he stood there, his hand tightly closed around his pocket, just a few inches from the threshold. But to his amazement, Lupin remained silent, giving him only a penetrating look.  
Severus coughed deliberately, breaking the awkward silence.  
"Am I early?" he asked coldly, choppily and somehow wrongly.  
"O no, not at all," Lupin replied, "I just have um a few things to pack."  
For a moment, a slight, warm flicker passed through his eyes. Something Severus knew all too well about Albus, and which always made him nervous for some unknown reason. Then Lupin let his gaze wander around the room, finally lingering on the covered cage, of which only the floor still peeked out from under the cloth. A quiet, inward smile crossed his lips and without looking at Severus he said, "Come, I wanted to show you something else."  
Severus wanted to object, wanted to press for time to run out. But as Lupin walked towards the cage without consideration, Severus also put down his bag and reluctantly followed him. _Let's not draw attention to ourselves! Just don't let the fragile mood tip!_ Lupin, meanwhile, had bent over the cage and lifted the cloth.  
"They don't fully transform in their sleep," he explained, while Severus saw only darkness between the bars at first. Bored, he stepped closer. And then, all at once, he saw it for himself and his eyes widened in surprise: the Nightalp cub had turned invisible in his sleep, but not completely! The contours of its body were still recognizable like a faded image of the colors of face and fur. The being was as transparent and translucent as a ghost. Interested, Severus bent lower, peering into the cage. To his own amazement, all tension instantly fell away from him. It was as if he had fallen a whole day backwards through time, and all he could think of was the real reason for the trip: curiosity about the Nightalps fulfilled up in the mountains.  
"Fascinating, isn't it?" a warm, dark voice stirred above Severus, "I think it's the best protection. Despite their excellent eyes, the parent animals cannot find them completely invisible. In this guise, however, it should be no obstacle to them, and enemies will have a hard time."  
Almost lovingly, Lupin grasped the cloth and carefully pulled it back over the cage.  
"It's about time," he then said coolly, and the spell broke.

The journey home was more relaxed than Severus had expected after the events of the previous hours. Less than a quarter of an hour later, the flowerpot dropped them off in Lupin's office. The warmth in the apparently constantly heated room seemed almost tropical to Severus after the cold at the boarding house. He took a quick glance out the window and recognized Hogwarts around him, at least a small part of the school. But where there should have been a familiar feeling of home, he only felt strangely alien, as if he had been away from home for much longer than a scant day. Somewhere out in the hallway, the trampling of a few students could be heard, probably running toward the stairs down to the Great Hall, while Lupin put down the luggage and looked for a place to put the cage. Turning inward, Severus looked around his colleague's blocked office. The cup of dried Wolfsbane Potion still stood on the siteboard, giving the lie to his sentiments. He hadn't been away, not really. Then, suddenly, Lupin's face entered his field of vision, appearing straight from behind one of the wooden crates. Severus raised his eyes. For a moment, the light brown eyes appraised him, and once again there was an awkward silence between them. This time, however, it was his counterpart who cleared his throat and broke the silence.  
"Seems like it's time for lunch already, doesn't it?" he asked uncertainly.  
"Yes," Severus replied absently. Then he brushed off his thoughts like an old cloak and prepared to return to his daily routine.  
"Thank you for inviting me," he stated formally, crossing the room.  
"You're welcome," Lupin replied quietly, looking after him with a sad expression.  
Severus had almost reached the door when suddenly something in his robe pocket pressed against his chest. Then he remembered that it was nothing less than Lupin's handkerchief. The handkerchief he had yet to return to his colleague. Severus almost bit his tongue in his silent annoyance that events were catching up with him now, so close to the finish line. But dithering did no good. He had better get this over with quickly.  
"Wait!" he said, turning to Lupin, "I still have something of yours."  
His colleague frowned, then approached him. Immediately, Severus averted his eyes from him.  
"Here. You lost this in the chapel earlier," he explained contritely, pulling out the clean handkerchief and hastily placing it on the nearest box before Lupin reached him "It's still fresh. Goodbye."  
With a clearing of his throat, he turned away and walked the last few meters to the door without a backward glance, only his hoarsely muttered thank you still on his lips. Then a moment of silence. Severus had already put his hand on the knob. But this sudden silence made him hesitate for some unknown reason. Lupin inhaled heavily.  
"Good," he said, not unkindly, but with a gravity that hit Severus like a hammer hitting a nail, "so we're simple colleagues again. Everything as before."  
An icy shiver ran down Severus' spine. Slowly, mouth agape, he turned.  
Lupin was smiling. But it seemed tortured. The next moment his gaze turned away.  
"How did you find me, anyway?" it slipped out of Severus without him knowing why.  
Briefly Lupin looked at him, then looked past him again.  
"I had returned the climbing gondola. Across the street from the bus stop lives a witch who runs a branch of the European League of Magical Climbers. Then I saw you tumble off and was... was worried"  
Staring into space, Lupin was silent for a moment.  
"I'm sorry," he muttered as he continued, tucking the handkerchief into his robe pocket, "I know I shouldn't have followed you... shouldn't have done all that. I didn't mean to offend you. I just thought that you...that well...maybe we could talk again."  
He looked up sadly and his lips twitched. "Well, I guess things are what they are. Goodbye, then," he concluded wanly, and there was something final in his voice.  
Severus stood at the door, thunderstruck. He didn't know why, but he was shaken to the core.  
"No!" was all that escaped him, and again, more strongly, "No!"

Lupin frowned. And then, all at once, the sky seemed to burst open over Severus and everything came crashing down on him like a deluge. The flea tingling sensation he had so carefully forbidden himself before their journey spread at breakneck speed. Thoughts, feelings, and images flooded his mind, streaming into one another: Lupin, the only one besides Dumbledore to remember his birthday; Lupin, comforting him in the church; Lupin, painfully saving his life from the Dementors. And him? He had spat venom and bile at him, intrigued, pushed him away as if he were not a colleague but a piece of dirt. And he had been too arrogant to even think about a word of apology. The realization hit Severus like a storm wave hitting the rocky shore. It was not his colleague who was the culprit in this game, but he. He had acted like a bully over something that happened twenty years ago. All at once, other images mingled in his mind. The conversation at supper and in the silence of the mountain solitude; the fight with the Nightalps, which they conquered hand in hand. With the force of a cloudburst, from the depths of his soul burst forth what Severus had tried with all his might to drown within himself: he, too, no longer wanted this war. What he had called out to the Nightalps in his mind, what he had felt in the fright of their descent, had been more than a careless word for the purpose of deception or the adrenaline of the moment. It was the truth. Lupin had not been his enemy for weeks, with whom he had merely negotiated a truce. In a strange way, Severus had begun to like him. Him and his gestures of amends that fell like gentle rain on a part of his soul where wasteland had long reigned.

"I'm sorry," Severus gasped at last, in deepest agony. It was time to put this contract, which had long since ceased to be one, on file. Time to truly make peace.  
But Lupin only eyed him in irritation. "What are you sorry for?" he then asked curtly.  
"Everything," Severus pressed out in agony, turning away and squinting his eyes to regain control of his inflamed emotions. "The breaking into your bedroom, the Wolfsbane Potion, the business with Black... _please spare me the rest_!"  
His plea faded painfully in his ears. Why couldn't the ground rise up and swallow him? He was as embarrassed by all this as he had ever been by anything. He hardly dared breathe as he eyed the wood of the frame, lost in shame. When was the last time he had humiliated himself like this, when he had felt so naked and dirty, Severus did not know. He only prayed that this confession would soon come to an end.

Silence fell again, and this time it seemed to last an unbearably long time. Then Severus could hear Lupin exhale deeply.  
"I'm glad to hear that," he replied calmly and seriously, "I almost didn't dare to hope that you would come to your senses. But one should never give up hope. However, this journey could have ended worse for me than by accepting an apology I've long-awaited."  
Perplexed, Severus turned around. He thought he had misheard.  
"You forgive me?!"  
Lupin gave one of the cages a sidelong glance as if to check.  
"Yes, I think so," he replied thoughtfully at that, and began to do more work around the room while keeping an eye on Severus, "So much discord has been sown and reaped in the past...I'm tired of it!"  
He set down the can from which he had just sprinkled food into the Grindylow's aquarium and watched, lost in thought, as the water demon greedily grabbed the largest pieces.  
"Perhaps this is the beginning of a really good companionship," he thought aloud.  
Severus let his gaze wander to the floor in dismay as he remembered last night, when he had left his colleague standing ice-cold on the threshold of their inn.  
"If you'll give me another chance, Lupin?" he remarked contritely, so pressed that his words blurred into a strange tone.  
The one addressed, however, smiled, this time without any hint of bitterness. Almost a smile that resembled Dumbledore's.  
"Remus," he said kindly, taking a seat on a large box near Severus, "Just call me Remus!"  
Severus stared at him. It took him a few seconds to realize. But when the Bombada ignited, everything happened very quickly.  
"Severus," he replied curtly, "me Severus."  
And before he knew it, Remus, once Lupin, had risen to seal their new relationship with a handshake.

Warmth seeped from the strange fingers in Severus' hand, and deep within him he felt something begin to thaw that had long been buried under ice. The school bell struck at noon and with the last sound, Severus knew that nothing would ever be the same again.


	31. Friendship with the enemy

"Mister Jordan, what did I tell you earlier?" murmured Severus as he fixed his eyes on the fifth grader, who was currently gleefully eating away at his nerves. Below him on the table, a thick purple potion was bubbling in the cauldron, casting sparkling bubbles.  
"Only three drops of salamander blood," the boy muttered, leaning boredly on his arm.  
"Right! And how many did you put in?"  
"E - eight," he yawned, fueling Severus' anger even more. How dare he act like that in his classes! Not paying attention and then sassing him too!  
"Eight then?! Well, I guess that makes eight points subtra- "  
"- Hey Lee, maybe you can sell it to Katie as a love potion!" someone interrupted Severus.  
"And for you, too, Weasley!" he hissed, looking up and fixing the interrupter on the rearmost bench.  
"For which one of us?" the student grinned, casting a sidelong glance at his brother.  
"Yes, professor. You'll have to make up your mind. We're twins, we're not used to sharing."  
"What do you think George, maybe we can stick it to Ron or Percy, their names are Weasley too!"  
"I'm sure Mum would be thrilled. _Oh Percy, you as head boy!_ "  
"And his face at that!"  
At that moment, the school bell went.  
"OUT!" hissed Severus, watching as the boys packed their things, "Fifteen points deduction for both of you! And next time I expect you to stick your nose in the books!"  
The trio glared at him one last time. Then, to his displeasure, the boys put their heads together and began whispering. Severus would have liked to overhear them. But at that moment, the fifth-graders had passed the threshold. With an exasperated snort, he settled into his chair and wished them a good riddance as the classroom door slammed into the lock. Finally, he grabbed the stack of homework parchments and angrily tossed them into the document folder. Why did this wild bunch of adolescents have to drive him up a wall every lesson!!! Why couldn't one, just one of them, give the high art of potion brewing the respect it deserved?! Every root chopped lovelessly, every drop too much, every powder pawed with dirty fingers was an affront to himself. If only he knew how to instill a little more respect, a little more enthusiasm in students. But there was probably no recipe for that anywhere. It was a hopeless request!

Exhausted and with a throbbing headache, Severus crept up the spiral staircase and removed the ban from his office. Fortunately, it had been the last lesson for the day. The end of the day lay ahead of him, and his rooms greeted him with a soothing quiet. But after a short while, the silence became too loud for him. Stealthily, as if someone else might be watching him besides that golden-haired portrait in the hallway, Severus crept over to his library cubbyhole and cast a furtive glance at the grimy calendar above the armchair. Monday. For five days now since Monday, he had been deprived of the warm voice that greeted him in the staff room after closing time. To think that the disruption of mundane routines could throw him off balance like that for once, especially when it came to other people.... Severus shook his head as he turned and searched the shelf for the 'History of Convertible Potions'.

The colleague was out off-site. After the fur of his precious exhibit had unexpectedly turned black on Sunday evening and the special permit from the Ministry had expired with the now sexually mature animal, he had given the students quiet work and had left with a small group of selected seventh graders to expose the young Nightalp again and deepen their knowledge on the excursion. Involuntarily, Severus stroked his aching temple and glanced sideways with quiet discomfort at the paintings of dark curses leaning against the narrow wall, which he had intended to lend Remus for class just before he left. How much a single day could change! Since their trip to the mountains, their relationship had never been the same. In the meantime, they had become something like friends, quite good ones, in fact. One of the best friendships Severus had ever experienced, even though the competition could be counted on one hand. But Remus had become so close to him that - something he would never have thought possible in the past - the days of absence were beginning to affect him. He missed meeting the gentle brown eyes in the staff room after classes and resenting incompetent students, and feeling the dark voice brush over him like a cooling breeze - And how was your day? He missed the warm coffee; the quiet words; the footsteps echoing in unison on the corridor walls until they parted ways.

Pondering, Severus looked down at the floor with the book in his hand and found only dust and emptiness. When had it actually begun with Merlin that he no longer sought his distraction, his escape from the annoyances of everyday school life, in solitude between seething cauldrons, but in the proximity of another human being? It must have been the early Monday morning after their return home when the sky above Hogwarts was still shrouded in black and the flames of the flaming torches reflected like candlelight in the windows. Severus remembered that the events of the previous day had not quite left him when he had carried the steaming cup of Wolfsbane Potion up to the seventh floor through the still sleeping schoolhouse, instead of simply placing it in the staff room as he had done on Sunday. Lily's ghost had haunted the hallways around that cursed day, as it did every year, haunting him, gnawing at his mind. How he had been able to forget her birthday was a mystery to himself, but here her revenge for it had haunted him. The night before, he had lain in bed again, writhing in nightmares, trying with potions to drive out of himself the unbearable pain that tormented him so many nights that reminded him of her. Sleep had left far too soon, so he had at least used the time to prepare the wolfbane potion. And in this gloomy mood he entered the office on the seventh floor which was still in darkness except for the moonlight and whose landlord had just risen at his knock. On the desk stood a burnt candle and beside it: A photograph of HER. Severus did not know if the sudden stab in his heart was jealousy or grief. Nor what this sudden discovery should tell him about his colleague. He just wanted to quickly put the cup down and flee the office again before his features revealed his feelings. But at that moment Remus was already standing next to him, wordlessly grabbing the photo and putting it into an old envelope marked 'A travel greeting from J. and L. Potter'. Then he gently asked if Severus wanted to stay for morning tea before breakfast.And Severus, in his confusion, his exhaustion, stayed, washing away the showers of the night with hot Earl Grey and listening to an interesting recording of the laughter of the Erklings. What it was about the photo, about Remus and Lily, Severus did not ask, nor did he dare to think about.

What happened after that; how it came about that they spent their free time together again and again, Severus did not remember. All he remembered were Remus' requests to keep him company a little longer on the evenings before the full moon. A little longer each day. The unexpected photo, these small tokens of _her_ existence, oddly enough, aroused less his jealousy and more a strange sense of similarity. For so long he had forgotten that there were others who had known _HER_.

Over the hours they spent together, the moon swelled and swelled. As the celestial star rose increasingly over Hogwarts for the last time, the memory of the first full moon night of the young year and Remus' pained expression had driven Severus to his house library. An inner fire fueled his actions. He wanted, needed, to somehow ease his colleague's suffering. For hours he meticulously leafed through Belby's complete works, then made a neutralizing potion in the laboratory. His studies had convinced him that there were no interactions between the painkilling elixir and Wolfsbane Potion, but better safe than sorry. The next day, with his hand on the wand and decked out in silver, he stayed in the other man's office until moonrise to inject the wolf with the antidote to the painkiller in case of doubt. It was disturbing to witness the transformation in the flesh. Disturbing to hear the breaking of bones, to see how fur overgrew the skin and the limbs deformed. But when the great beast turned away from Severus and curled up peacefully on the couch, he knew that all had gone well and left his colleague alone with a dose of painkilling elixir for the re-transformation. It wasn't until he was on the threshold that he realized how strange this situation was. Albus Dumbledore had always been the only person among the battlements of Hogwarts for whom he would have done something similar. And perhaps it had been this moment when fate had turned. This moment, when from the bottom of their talk the sprout of a friendship pushed out its first little leaves.

In the meantime, they met several times a week in the evenings after nine; they played wizard chess, talked shop about the Dark Arts, studied the magical creatures, or simply sat together and drank a cup of tea while the gramophone scratchily played an old record. And even if Severus would have denied it when asked, these meetings did him infinitely good. In fact, their evenings reminded him of his audiences in the principal's office - a month ago, the only place he had gone now and then in need of human closeness, to vent his anger and get medicine for his soul, even if he would never have admitted it. But with Remus it was different than with Albus, different than with any of the few people in his life who still meant anything to him. Where Albus immersed himself in the nimbus of the mysterious and it was difficult to grasp his essence, Remus was an open book, wore his thoughts and feelings on his sleeve. Where Narcissa and Lucius, who fortunately had escaped the snooping in their manor in the end, invited to exquisite dinners where they talked business or themselves, Remus always offered his open ear with a cup of tea and a piece of dark chocolate. And where Draco's almost childlike admiration flattered him, Severus, but was of little more use, he had found in Remus someone whose cleverness was hardly inferior to his own and who challenged him not only in chess. This young friendship, the just budding plant resembled _nothing_ Severus had ever experienced in recent years. The only one with whom he had experienced anything comparable - and this thought frightened him - had been Lily.

Perhaps this quiet fright was the reason why he was still keeping a low profile, perhaps not, Severus mused as he made himself comfortable in the armchair with the tome. He had allowed Remus to advance into the forecourt of the heavily fortified fortress he had made his soul, but not yet into the interior of the castle. Even though his counterpart, in accidentally penetrating the hidden chambers, up there in the chapel between the mountains, had neither trampled the otherwise well-guarded castle treasures to shards nor dragged them into the light, where cruel glances eyed them. But it was difficult for him to take the last steps. Too quickly, much too quickly, things had changed. Twenty years could not burn up in a month. And although Severus had to admit to himself with astonishment with every new trait he discovered in Remus, for how many wonderful things his carefully preserved hatred had blinded him, this man with the gentle, brown eyes was still a stranger to him. He knew only the schoolboy who loved to bully him with his friends. This boy, however, had never existed...

But Remus also seemed to be keeping many a secret from him. Only a few days after the fire under the cauldron with the Wolfsbane Potion was extinguished, a terrible report caused a great commotion at Hogwarts. Sirius Black had once again invaded the school, and this time he had even attacked a student. In a hastily called crisis conference, the planned Hogsmead excursion was postponed by two months to the Easter weekend. Of course, Remus was above suspicion by now, and yet... hadn't he seemed introverted and brooding for a few days? Severus still remembered the sad climax. Annoyed, he quit the game of chess, in which his counterpart seemed to have absolutely no interest, with the words that he, Severus, still had a conversation with Draco Malfoy, which was more important than a half-baked coffee party. Remus stared at him in bewilderment as he stood up, almost as if his announcement had broken through some inner wall. The next morning he heard that his colleague had been in Dumbledore's office for a very long time that very evening. But Severus had not followed up on what he had to discuss with the principal in the middle of the night.

The other day he found Remus in an unaccustomed gloom. The brown eyes looked dull and lackluster into the distance and the forehead lay in deep wrinkles as if black clouds of thought surrounded it. It was the first day that it was not Remus who asked 'and how was your day? ' on which it wasn't Remus who brewed the tea. In the past, Severus would have just left. On this day, however, after a moment of perplexity, he made his friend a cup of his beloved hot chocolate and did what Dumbledore would have done: Hand him his coat and take him for a walk through the castle grounds. In the fresh air at the edge of the forbidden forest, Remus slowly relaxed. But what had plunged him into this gloom, Severus never knew until today. His friend had only looked up at the treetops, over which the sky was gradually putting on its evening gown, and quietly murmured something about it being good that Hogwarts, this place full of children, was protected from people taking revenge on innocent people for the Ministry's policies. Then they had returned to the castle under the gaze of the rising moon. The following afternoon Remus was in an equally unusual condition, but of a very different kind. In a flurry of activity that seemed strange to him, he searched through the boxes, rushed back to the desk, rifled through an address book with his hands clutched in his hair, and was back at the boxes.Rudolph Deer, his supplier of food for the numerous creatures, had canceled his contract, he explained to Severus when he asked. "He must have learned from his son, a Ravenclaw classmate, if you remember, that I was friends with Sirius at the time, and now he thinks I let him into the school and is threatening to turn to Dumbledore out of fear for his granddaughter," he explained nervously, adding that Dumbledore was not impressed by the letters, of course, but the contract cancellation was causing him trouble. There was special food, which was very difficult to obtain. When Remus threw him out the door that day with a thousand excuses, Severus made a decision.Among his students there was one whose mother's maiden name was Deer and who certainly had time on a Friday night... Remus had just appeared on the threshold of the staff room when Severus saw off the daughter of a magical pet shop owner in front of the flea fire, his eyes wide with sudden astonishment as the word innocence and a family name came up.

Since that day, the pity had disappeared from his friend's gaze, which had sometimes flared up in it and which he had hated as much as he had hated it with Dumbledore. Something else had taken its place. Severus could not tell what it was. He only knew that it was that very look that he was missing now, at this very second.

Blinking in the dim glow of the valley light, he slammed the tome shut as the small hourglass on the side table expired. His studies and wandering through memories had made the time pass faster than expected. It was already time for dinner. Listlessly, Severus dragged himself up to the Great Hall to feed his growling stomach and, glancing at the teacher's table, realized with sadness once again that Remus Lupin was out of the office and that he would probably not be able to vent his anger in a game of chess that evening. Hopefully Remus was taking good care of himself up there in the Alps. The thought of what had happened last time sent a shiver down Severus' spine. He tried to block it out. But the empty seat at the table inevitably brought the memory to his mind.

Someone seemed to notice his concern. Severus could feel the blue eyes roaming over him behind the half-moon glasses. It was not the first time. A little over a week ago, when he and Remus had had something to do in the village, they had stopped in at the Three Broomsticks afterwards and had run into Dumbledore there. In the last days before Remus' departure, the principal had watched their little encounters - conversations in the staff room and in the corridor, or when Severus had brought his colleague a few books from his library - with an interested expression, as if it were a highly rare natural phenomenon that two people got along well. Admittedly, it was a novelty for Severus to find a new friend in an old enemy. Or to become so devoted to another person in the first place. It had been years since he had secretly longed for someone else's first invitation to tea rather than cynically declining it; since the news that someone from the College had been admitted to Saint Mungo's had filled him not with indifference but with genuine concern; since he had allowed a person to take the keys to his soul and look around a bit. And this person was sitting in front of him right now and was examining him insistently.

"I received an owl from Germany this afternoon. Remus Lupin will complete our circle again tomorrow morning. Perhaps you, like your colleagues, would like to greet your student, Patricia Rosier, after dinner, who returned to our portal a few minutes ago by portkey with her three classmates," a soft voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Severus looked up and looked into Albus' warm eyes. Dumbledore had spoken it so softly, almost in a whisper, that only Severus himself heard it, and a friendly smile was on the lips in the silver beard. Anticipation poured into Severus' heart and he scolded himself a fool for already fearing the worst. How Albus had once again been able to read inside him like an open book, he did not wonder. This talent had long been too familiar to him. Briefly, he turned back to the Slytherin table, nodded to the girl still in her traveling cloak sitting among her friends, and climbed the small landing to the teacher's benches. Silently, he took a seat at the table and looked at the bowls of peas, beans, and meat that still had one less mouth to feed. Images, sounds, smells ran through his mind: The comforting words like balm as he complained about the mountains of homework to be corrected; the scent of hot chocolate that rose to his nostrils when his colleague brewed them two cups; the warm eyes, focused intently on the chessboard as Severus sacrificed his pawn and gave it student names in his mind; the crackling and scratching of records, the long disputes about dark creatures, and finally the gentle smile that greeted him all those evenings and washed away the stress of the workday.

Thoughtfully, Severus plunged his fork into his food. He hadn't realized how attached he had already become to Remus, how much he could miss him. Five days, five days only, and he was already off balance like a ship on a stormy sea. Casually, he took a sip from his goblet. The water on his tongue washed memories to the surface. Once before, there had been a time when the absence of a friend had been so painful; when he had longed for his forthcoming return with every fiber of his being; when he had kept looking towards the portal, not wanting to miss the moment when the red curls that had lain on a pillow in St. Mungo's for the first few days of school, drenched in the sweat of Grindel Fever, would finally float in the door. Absently, Severus lowered his gaze, looking into his empty heart where longing pulsed. The storm of winter's end rustled and shook the old arched windows behind him in ghostly whispers.


	32. A strange shake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dear ones! Last week there was no chapter, so today there are two. I know I also owe many of you feedback and e-mails. I'm sorry, I've been very busy lately. I will catch up soon. Until then, I hope you enjoy the new chapters. Have fun!

Remus Lupin returned the next day as Dumbledore had announced. But he did not come quietly. His appearance was accompanied by a wave of chaos that swept through Hogwarts on the morning of February 26. Severus had just gotten up and was passing the entrance area in front of the portal on his way to breakfast when he almost ran into Minerva McGonagall, who hurriedly approached him from the top of the stairs.

"Professor Snape, I'm glad to find you already here," she declared between two heavy breaths, her tartan shoulder scarf slipping as she ran. Severus raised his eyebrows in uneasy anticipation as Professor Vektor and Professor Sinistra joined them, and a few curious students gathered into a cluster some distance away.

"Professor Dumbledore sends word to all Heads of Houses that you may instruct your Prefects to assemble their classmates in the Great Hall. He has something important to report for breakfast," the Deputy Headmistress continued, "And there is a meeting scheduled in the staff room in half an hour."

Severus just stared at her. It was Professor Vektor who was giving voice to his thoughts.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern, "Not Black again, surely?"

But it was not Professor McGonagall who answered her.

"No. Once again, Fred and George Weasley have pulled a little prank," a calm, yet serious voice wafted down from the stairs. Severus and his colleagues immediately looked up at the principal, who was slowly walking towards them while his deputy regained her composure.

"I regret to inform you," Dumbledore spoke into the falling silence, "that our librarian has been admitted to St. Mungo's with a nervous breakdown. Our school library has been completely devastated."

At that moment the portal door swung open. Appearing on the threshold, accompanied by a house-elf carrying his boxes, was Remus Lupin.

"By Merlin!" he gasped hoarsely, lowering the travel case in his hand to the floor and eyeing his colleagues intently.

Measured, Severus sucked in the air and expelled it again like a bellows fanning the fire of his anger. His last lesson came to mind, mingling with countless others.

"Fred and George Weasley," he snorted coldly, catching Minerva McGonagall's eye, "they belong to your house. Perhaps you should finally take responsibility and put them in their place with all your might, insofar as that is at all in your best interests."

Professor McGonagall stared at him, as if stunned. Then her expression hardened and she stood up full height in front of him.

"Professor Snape," she said coldly, with barely suppressed anger, "as your superior, I resent this tone. You know as well as I do that I treat each student as they deserve. And while we're at it, didn't you refuse to hold Mister Malfoy accountable for his evil prank against Potter after the last Quidditch match?"

" _Mister Malfoy_ ," Severus picked up on her words, "has never damaged a book in our library."

"Severus!" admonished Albus, rebuking him with a sharp look. But Severus did not swallow the pill and continued to object.

"Oh no, Dumbledore, not this time. That twin pack has gotten off with a black eye far too many times. It's time they faced the consequences of their actions. But I see," he let his gaze wander over those nearby, "that I am alone in this opinion."

Before anyone could retort, he briefly turned his head to the cluster of students, in which happened to be a tall student wearing a Slytherin scarf and a flashing badge.

"Miss Pucey, take your classmates to the Great Hall!" he called over his shoulder to her, then turned back to his colleagues.

"Have a good day!" snorted Severus in farewell, whirling around and steaming off without a backward glance. Just then, out of the corner of his eye, he could see Remus handing his luggage to the house elf and following at his heels.

Finally, after almost surveying the corridor and hearing his friend call his name, Severus stopped abruptly and turned around, unnerved. Yes, he had missed Remus. But at the moment he didn't want to see a soul, not even him.

"What is it?!" he asked a little more gruffly than he had intended. Remus eyed him with a hint of annoyance in his features.

"I could ask you the same thing," he then replied calmly.

Severus pulled himself together with all his might. He hadn't meant to snap at him, hadn't meant to hurt him, especially not now, at the moment of their reunion, which deserved happier circumstances. But his irritation held his tongue in a tight stranglehold.

"You were there, so why are you asking me this?" he said as calmly as he could. Remus watched him and seemed to consider for a moment.

"Because I'd like to hear your story," he then replied thoughtfully, lowering his voice, "I can see you're angry. I guess that just was a scare for all of us. But to go after Minerva like that...there's a whole other thing behind it, am I right?"

Severus closed his eyes and turned his head away, gasping. When he opened his eyelids again he could see Remus nodding.

"Time to clear my head! The weather is glorious. The castle grounds are just perfect for a little walk."

He smiled. For a second, Severus eyed him narrowly. Then his defenses collapsed. It hadn't been long ago when he had done the exact same thing with Remus.

"Well, let's go," he replied curtly and, resigning himself to his fate, followed his mate outside.

Severus didn't know how he did it, but Remus once again managed, as he had in the mountains, to draw things out of him that he usually kept quiet about, except to Dumbledore. He had already vented a few times after stressful days playing chess. But never as thoroughly as today. Soon he was going off into angry monologues about deliberately botched potions, twenty times duplicated homework and outrageous backtalk, about manipulated school schedules, firecrackers in the classroom, injured students, about a funny game called 'Snape Explodes'* and about stolen jars from his pantry. By the time it ended and the mild breeze of early spring blew around their noses, they had reached the big oak tree by the lake.

"Your anger is understandable," Remus declared, gazing musingly out at the water as the balmy breeze brushed through their hair. Severus listened with only half an ear. He had often heard such things from Dumbledore, and what followed were always appeasements; bubbles of warm words that just comforted you all the way back. Then all at once Remus sighed, his gaze still fixed on the expanse of water, and Severus snapped to attention.

"Actually, I shouldn't think that way, especially with the state of my own youthful sins. But you know, sometimes I too wish those two weren't sitting in my class. I often have my way with them, too," he confessed quietly.

Severus raised his eyebrows and turned his head. These were new tones! Never before had anyone agreed with him in this way. Thoughtfully he let his eyes rest on the profile of his friend, whose early graying strands of hair shone silvery in the morning light, and silently traced the sound of the words in his soul. It felt good. As if someone finally, _finally_ understood him. The air, already tinged with the breeze of spring, tickled his nose and his friend's close body radiated a slight warmth. Something in Severus began to melt as if waves of his anger were crashing against the cliffs and slowly, very gradually subsiding. Like magic, calm settled over him like the darkness of night over the dying light of day. Remus' eyes gleamed warmly in the sunlight as he could see out of the corner of his eye. And all at once Severus felt nothing but a deep, comforting safety. A safety that emanated entirely from Remus, as if he had put a warm blanket around him. Every wall seemed to be broken down and they both became one in the silence of a holy moment. A moment like Severus had rarely experienced before. In a strange admiration, he cast a hesitant sideways glance at his friend. His friend who was gazing out at the lake, silent and thoughtful.

Then Remus continued, "Professor McGonagall, however, bears very little of the blame for this. She has enough to deal with them herself."

There was a tiny tear in the cloak of calm, but the words were not enough to tear it in two. Severus already had a reply on his lips. But before he could retort anything, his friend turned to the castle.

"I think we should turn back slowly. If Dumbledore has called a meeting, as you said, it has surely already begun," he explained, grabbing Severus' shoulder briefly as he turned.Severus dismissed what was on the tip of his tongue, nodded curtly, and let Remus lead the way a few steps. He gazed after him thoughtfully, the light brown mop of hair shining in the morning sun, golden and beautiful. A small stab of melancholy flashed through his chest. With Remus' departure, the sacred veil tore, and seeing his figure grow smaller in the distance felt strange all at once. Something - Severus could not yet grasp what - had just changed.Had the last few days drained him that much? For a moment his head buzzed with unspoken words: _I missed you, please stay_. They mingled with the guilty conscience of having completely forgotten to ask Remus about his trip. But then, as the light silhouette reached the schoolyard, a tentative smile flitted across Severus' lips. He was here, safe and sound back at Hogwarts! Remus, his best friend, had returned! They would sit together again and beat games of chess. They would be poring over tomes on black magic again. And maybe... maybe there would be a moment like this again. A moment full of intimacy that he did not understand.

The warmth on his shoulder, left by his friend's hand, seeped into Severus's body, tingling, wanting to turn into the corona of a heartbeat in the rush of a strange anticipation that threatened to fade away unnoticed. At that moment, however, a dark cloud suddenly pushed in front of the sun: a memory from childhood. And Severus froze inside. He was twelve years old, had drawn his wand and pointed it at a toad on the ground with evil intent. And Lily's voice screamed, screamed all the way to the present, "No, Severus, don't!"

Confused by the odd association, Severus shook his head briefly and finally followed his colleague up to the castle, keeping his emotions tightly locked inside. The staff room was packed as they cautiously opened the door and entered. Albus Dumbledore had set up at the front and gave them only a quick sidelong glance.

"Minerva will take care of the rest," he explained just then, nodding over to his deputy, who immediately returned the gesture. Then, turning to everyone, he continued.

"We do not know when Madam Pince will be able to be released. Therefore, the library will remain closed for an indefinite period of time, including the Forbidden Section, which was fortunately spared from the devastation. Heads of Houses please inform their students of this. In the meantime, in order to spare our librarian another shock, we should take care of the restoration. Argus has already begun to work with the culprits to clean up the mess. But there was damage to the inventory, which requires the use of a skilled wand. So if any of you feel up to it, I would like to ask you to participate in the cleanup. The organization is in the hands of our esteemed janitor. I ask you all to contact him for further questions. So much for the state of affairs. Despite these gray morning, I wish you all a wonderful Saturday. May it end better than it began. Goodbye."

The principal took one last look around, then left the classroom with a thoughtful expression on his face. Chairs were moved and colleagues began to gather around Argus Filch, who pulled a few scratch slips and an old fountain pen from his coat pocket to jot down names and times. While Severus waited for the tangle to unravel, Remus, Professor McGonagall, and Charity Burbage were pushed close together.

"I wonder what's going on with the students these days. They're getting more and more restless, incidents are constantly happening, and now this!" complained Charity, shaking her head.

Remus put on a thoughtful expression.

"It's being locked up," he then countered, "The winter dragged on for a long time, and by postponing the Hogmeade trip, they missed out on a long-awaited event. They're bored. They need diversion."

"Remus, if you have a bright idea on how to subdue these rioters, we would very much appreciate hearing about it," Professor McGonagall remarked resignedly.

"I'll come up with something by tomorrow night," Remus replied quietly, and then he could no longer be heard because by now he had made his way over to Filch and the other teachers' conversations were swallowing their conversation.

Severus paused with his arms crossed near the wood-paneled wall. He had no great desire to pay for the misdeeds of these louts. But when Dumbledore asked for something, it was usually just an order disguised with politeness. After Remus reappeared from the crowd, he whispered goodbye with the excuse that he still had to take care of his luggage and the mail that had been left behind. The soft brown eyes that glanced over at him once more at the door, and the faint hint of a smile that poured warmth into his veins, were the last things Severus saw of his friend that morning. Without him and without Dumbledore, he felt like he was in a chicken coop, and yet he too dutifully put his name on Filch's messy scrap of paper, in a box with Remus' signature. When, after the following lunch, he made his way to his dungeons to spend the time until the great march in the evening with his studies, his rage was completely extinguished. The free hours of his cruelly curtailed weekend were too precious to waste on thoughts of two red-haired brats. But there was something else he couldn't get out of his mind: the slight pang of loneliness after yesterday's end of duty and that strange reunion a little over an hour ago down in the castle grounds that had conjured up Lily's ghost. As Severus walked over to the bedroom to get his bedtime reading, his eyes grazed the mirror. And for that brief moment, he felt strange to himself. Of course, he had also stood in front of the gargoyle on the third floor and been thoroughly annoyed when the portrait at the bottom of the spiral staircase declared that Albus Dumbledore was out of the house until morning. But such surges of emotion were not his way. What was wrong with him?!

For a second, Severus let his eyes wander over the bed with the book in his hand. Then he threw the book back on the bedside table and lifted the pillow aside. Something drove him to look to see if it was still there. And there it lay in the dim light, the floral ornaments hidden between the wood: the casket. Quickly, Severus opened the lid, and as the red curl slipped through his fingers and his heart began a tumultuous drumbeat, all was right with the world again. He was simply straddled. That was all. He had missed Remus for that reason alone, because his words did him good. He should just forget about the situation in the castle grounds and drown the rest of his doubts in work. Seeking distraction, Severus returned to his studies, not noticing that it had begun to bubble in the depths of the Cauldron of Gold....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This was an Easter egg in the original for readers of the German Harry Potter editions.In an early translation of the series, the translator made a mistake and translated the wizarding game "Exploding Snap" to "Snape explodiert", which means nothing more than "Snape explodes." It's one of my favorite translation mistakes because it just fits SO WELL ^^.


	33. Bilbiophilia

As the fire under the potion went out, the lid slid onto the Merlin Academy box, and Severus walked into the Great Hall for dinner, he noticed that one chair at the teacher's table was empty: Remus' seat. Puzzled, he looked around the room to see if his friend might be late or still talking to a Prefect, Head Boy or Girl or a colleague.But nowhere in the crowd could he find his face. Severus raised his eyebrows and with a queasy feeling he went to the table. Something was not right. It wasn't Remus' style to skip meals unless disaster loomed as a shining white disc on the horizon. But it was still a few days before then. Soon Severus was trying to dispel the sinking feeling in his stomach by eating dinner, bite by bite. But the uneasiness would not go away. Again and again, the soft, brown eyes flickered before him. And he couldn't even tell why he was thinking about Remus so much. A missed dinner was certainly no cause for concern.

By the time they met again, the swelling moon had crossed the castle's battlements, and in the silent corridors only scattered students were encountered, wearily returning to their houses. The silvery pale light that shone through the large arched window on the opposite side broke dully on Remus' face while he waited motionless like a statue in front of the library for Severus. His expression seemed serious and silent. In the dim light, it seemed to Severus for a moment as if his eyes were puffy. But the half-light soon hid his friend's face in shadow, blurring the impression.

"Hello Severus," Remus greeted him quietly, attempting a smile that wouldn't quite come. Severus returned it and eyed him skeptically. A strange silence enveloped them for a moment, then he noticed Remus carrying a folded note in his hand, and the tense mood broke.

"What have you got there? Is this from Filch?" he asked, pointing at the paper.

Remus seemed to wake up as if from a dark dream.

"Oh yes," he said, "He was here again ten minutes ago for final instructions. We're to take care of the back west wing, Beedle section."

Severus narrowed his gaze. This was the small fiction section. Hell if he knew why Argus had put them there. But he turned away and recited a passage from 'the Memiors of Merlin', this year's password reading for emergency situations where the central keys were locked, in front of the closed library door.

"Truly, a masterpiece of literature," the library door replied delightedly, and swung open.

Severus couldn't tell what he had expected - a wild heap of book covers, perhaps, or papers whirling through the air - but not those rows of shelves lying in darkness, looking as they always had. Either the colleagues had done a great job or....

"We're the last ones," Remus's voice sounded surprisingly behind him, sending him into a comfortable shiver without any knowledge of why, "Filch had the Weasley twins do most of the clearing. I think the biggest problem is that some book spells got messed up. But the colleagues said the damage was lighter than it first appeared, except in the archives at the... at the Daily Prophets."

As his friend's voice faltered, Severus turned to find him once again engulfed in that sad disgruntlement that Severus had noticed outside the door. But before he could say anything, Remus pursed his lips.

"Let's go," he muttered dully, and stole away toward the west wing.

Severus sweared inwardly as he let the light of his wand glow. He was good at potions, black magic, and occlumency. However, he was only average at charms and transfiguration. But that was exactly what they would need here. When they had passed a few rows of shelves, a soft choking sound reached his ears almost as if someone was vomiting into a bowl. After a few turns, they had reached their location, and the mystery was solved: at the edge of shelf number 15, a book had tipped forward, spewing waves of letters that gathered into a puddle on the floor. Severus had found his first task. Immediately he drew his wand and levitated the volume from the shelf. 'Beedle's Bard Friends. Tales from Fans' the title flashed briefly at him, then he flipped through the work in mid-air. Last drops of letters fell to earth, otherwise the pages were blank.

"No wonder" stirred the tome next to the gap in the shelf, "With this lard and trash, this gross nonsense, it had to come to this. The three brothers and a first-grader who trumps them all; Babbity Rabbitty and the tree stump a pair as lovers; the wizard with the bouncing pot as a villa-"

But Severus was no longer listening. He spoke a Finite Incantatem on Good Luck and watched to his satisfaction as the alphabet soup flowed back into the book in small drops and the pages filled up again.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Remus looking skeptically at a collection of books that appeared to be stuck together, jutting into space as a strange, three-dimensional structure.

At that moment, he decided to cast some Revilio spells over the section to find out what had happened in the first place.

They must have been at work for almost an hour until the forest of construction zones cleared and they neared the end. Although their task had been arduous and offered little in the way of amusement, Remus' mood had improved noticeably, as if the work had been a healing potion that had cured him of his mysterious woe. Time and again, Severus had paused to cast an examining glance at his friend. Had watched as the large hands deftly waved the wand, whereupon a stack of books dislodged from the ground and flew back to the shelves; as the warm glow of the kerosene lamp, lit because they needed their wands for other purposes, painted a sparkle in the brown eyes; as a curious glance crossed his when they noticed each other and a tentative smile greeted him wordlessly. His concern soon faded and gave way to another feeling: Warmth. Warmth that radiated from his chest to every corner of his body. It was nice not to be alone. It was nice to have a friend by his side. A friend who understood him, even in silence. Who even engaged in a little reciprocity. Because sometimes, when he had turned back to his work, Severus noticed out of the corner of his eye that Remus had also stopped, letting his eyes slide over him, looking at him closely. Then, when he turned to face him, a hint of shame suddenly entered Remus' eyes and he lowered his gaze in embarrassment. After a while, Severus frowned in wonder.

It was not the first time that Remus' glances followed him in this way. Since that fateful day a good two months ago, when he had been rescued in the castle grounds, he had repeatedly registered his friend eyeing him as if lost in thought when he thought he had gone unnoticed. But until today, Severus had never really thought about it. Until today, he hadn't felt that tingling sensation that traveled along his skin like fleas when he felt Remus' eyes gliding over his body. What was happening here? The coincidences - they had soon turned into a strange game. He and Remus studied each other; cast furtive glances at each other; avoided each other when they noticed each other, yet soaked up each other's figure like a sponge. Although it was still winter, the air in the library suddenly seemed heated, electrified, almost as if a thunderstorm were coming. Slightly dizzy, Severus turned away, forcing his attention entirely to the books, not knowing what rain would fall if it broke loose.

"Cast off your concerns, wanderer, like your cloak!" came Remus' voice softly to his ears. And it didn't stop at that one sentence. "For under this roof there is no place for sorrow and fear, for grief and distress. Do you see there, how it bubbles so merrily in the cauldron? Already the copper glows red in the eager flames. Inside boils what will heal you from all the sorrow you carry. Go ahead, take a sip from the pewter cup, so that your heart may find peace," he recited.

Severus listened, turned his head and looked in amazement at Remus, whose silhouette was bathed in a corona of moonlight. The words, so familiar, seemed to echo in the silence of the library. He knew those lines, as well as the casket under his pillow. A strange expression showed on Remus' face, an absent dreaminess interspersed with melancholy.

"Peace in a draught from Judith Harper Loneshift," he explained thoughtfully, "She has helped me in many difficult hours."

Severus stared at him as if transfixed.

"I know," he replied, "That's how the witch spoke all the time when a poor soul knocked on her door and drew the potion from the cauldron."

Remus' lips curved into a quiet smile.

"I see we still have something in common," he explained gently, pushing apart the books on the shelf under their protest to push back the volume, "My grandfather liked her too. He collected her works, read them to me in the lonely hours at the cottage, and thus awakened my passion as well. Later I inherited his most valuable legacy: a whole chest full of first editions. Hmm, perhaps I should borrow this book."

Severus held his breath. First editions? By Harper Loneshift?! What a treasure! Older editions were already hard to get. Even in the best antiquarian bookstores in the magical world, one usually searched in vain. But originals?! For a moment, Severus was befuddled by a bewitching potion, like an animal that had sensed prey. Then he cleared his throat.

"Next time we meet, would you mind, perhaps...". He didn't dare say it. For some reason, he found it difficult to bring his request across his lips as if there were something sacred in it. But he didn't need to. Remus eyed him intently, and again Severus had the strange sensation of a faint shame in his eyes. But this time Remus did not avert his gaze. On the contrary, he caught his, and Severus knew he understood.

"Why wait?" replied Remus a moment later, and there was something oddly promising in his voice. Tingles ran down Severus' arms.

"What do you mean?" he murmured in mock surprise as his friend let his gaze wander around the room.

"Well, it seems to me that our work here is done so far," Remus explained, "And it's the weekend. None of us have to get up very early tomorrow. We could go up for a little midnight tea now, too, that is if you like?"

A tentative smile played around Remus' lips as the question passed through the room like the first gentle breeze, tickling Severus softly. A curt nod was his reply and the matter was settled. Less than a quarter of an hour later, they were walking side by side through the quiet schoolhouse.

On the last stair, Severus inquired how the excursion had been. "Not worth mentioning," his friend replied. Mainly, his expedition would have consisted of boring tours through the wilderness. No comparison to the night's hunt. The words flew past Severus like moths, fading in the face of their purpose. The winter chill still filled the deserted corridors. But he was not cold. An unprecedented fire of longing burned within him, turning every other thought to smoke. At last, in the glow of their wands, the outline of the door to the familiar office peeled out of the darkness. A pensive glint was in Remus' eyes as he stroked the handle, spoke the password, and a metallic clack opened their way. He didn't stop to turn on the lights, but immediately led Severus to the most secret of his rooms, the bedroom, and had him sit down on the sofa bed. Soon, a pewter pot of freshly brewed tea on the bedside table poured hot vapors into the cool air, and a burning candelabra cast twitching shadows on the walls. Then Remus bent down and pulled an old, flat box out from under the sofa bed by hand.

"Here it is, my treasure chest," he breathed with a solemn expression, "You're the first person I've shown this to. James, Sirius, and Peter were never interested in it, and with Lily...I never got around to it with her." He sighed, lost in dark memories. Then, abruptly, he drew his wand.

"Alohomora!"

Severus' eyes widened as the lid popped open, the flickering glow sliding across the wood and exposing the leathery silhouettes of a stack of old books. For a moment he sat transfixed, motionless, speechless, looking down into the chest. It was like a revelation: Judith Haprer Loneshift's original editions!

In Remus, meanwhile, there was movement. Gently and mindfully, as if it were something trembling, something alive, he wiped the dust from the covers, then picked up a copy and placed it in Severus' hands. Immediately Severus let his gaze fly over the title, greedy as a sponge: Fermented in Dark Cauldrons. One of his favorite works. His breath quickened. He hardly dared to take a breath as he slowly stroked the leather and gold edge of the book of poetry like a precious gemstone and then opened the book with infinite care. Clouds of dust swirled up and the smell of times long past tickled his nose. Feelings rose in him that he usually only knew from brewing potions. Remus' fingers were not far from his own. They still held the book as if they didn't want to give up the treasure. Severus could almost touch it, feel the tension between them, and at his ears, in his face, he felt the warm whiff of Remus's breath.

"It's foxed, yellowed, and yet beautiful, isn't it?" whispered Remus, full of the deepest admiration for a beloved collectible. Severus looked up. Their eyes met in the half-light, a look full of intimacy. Recognition lay in the others' pupils, needing no words. They both felt it. The magic of language, Judith Harper Loneshift's language, whose spirit rose again to them from the old papers.

Then, a blink later, Remus turned away and retrieved another book from the chest. Alone for a moment with his treasure, Severus began to read. He had opened to a poem called 'the Sinner,' a familiar rhyme about an inmate of Azkaban awaiting execution of his sentence. The words reminded him unpleasantly of the matter that had kept Hogwarts in suspense since the beginning of the school year, and a slight rumbling stirred in his stomach. But then his friend's voice reached his ear and instantly dispelled his uneasiness.

"Here, look!" spoke Remus in undisguised fascination, "'The Origin of Evil.' See how beautifully the ornate ornaments are arranged?"

Severus, goaded by his enthusiasm, stretched his nose curiously over the other book and marveled.

"I haven't seen that one before!"

The expression on Remus' face was elusive. Only slowly did the words seem to get through to him. Then they wiped away all enthusiasm turned to dismay.

"Probably that edition was never reprinted," Severus tried to explain.

But his friend still sat stiffly in disbelief beside him, silent. Then suddenly Remus stood up, still with the book in hand, and nearly knocked over the tea cups on the bedside table. The abrupt coldness at his side penetrated Severus' consciousness more than he would have suspected. His friend, meanwhile, paced up and down in front of the nightstand, lost in thought, and swayed his head.

"The Origin of Evil is one of Harper's rare and extraordinary essays. In it she opposes the division of magic into dark and light arts, the consideration of so-called dark creatures at all. I have read it over and over again in my hardest times. That you of all people don't know it, when we have already studied so much professional literature together..."

"Then why don't you let me read it," Severus suggested.

But Remus shook his head again. His gaze was averted now, wandering through the window opposite them out into the night, where the mild early spring wind was by now driving white clouds in front of the moon.

_"It is a pity to hear, friends, what many a clever lawyer's tongue utters these days,"_ he breathed, and it took Severus an irritated moment to realize that his friend had just recited from the book. Then, suddenly, Remus turned. Their gazes found each other in the half-light, meeting abruptly. A tentative smile flitted across Remus' lips before his voice swelled again.

_"Fools, O fools are you all, who argue about the colors of magics and those of creatures.The origin of evil is not, as the school wisdom teaches us, in the corruption of spells, nor in the working of the forces of nature. Two germs are laid down in every soul, two germs to good and to evil."_

Severus sat completely motionless and listened. The words, they prodded something in him like fingers on rusted strings of an instrument. His ears were pricked up. In the meantime, Remus had positioned himself in front of the desk. The glow of the candelabra's candles cast a soft glow on the bedroom's floorboards, bathing his expression like the spotlights of a theater in a mixture of light and darkness. Around Severus, the room seemed to dissolve, the furniture, the window, everything disappeared and became void as Remus continued to speak.

_"Was your magic still white, when you let foreign quills float, only to tease each other? Is it black, when one tries to redeem the fading friend from suffering? He who condemns by day what brings disaster on people at night time, not out of evil will, but because a cruel nature compels him, denies the drive for evil in himself. For it is evil that drives us to judgment. Certainly, friends, dangers want to be banished. But the ban ends with the end of the night just as the punishment of sinners ends with confession and repentance. What is the use of a deadly kiss of repentance? What good are prison cells full of the living dead in a tower on the sea? Does wisdom speak from such actions? No! Only the folly of self-proclaimed virtue chooses such paths!"_

Severus could not say what it was that seized him so suddenly and made him sit still on the couch as if thunderstruck. He hung on his friend's lips and knew that something was happening that second that was beyond his comprehension. The candlelight shone golden in Remus' hair and his sonorous voice filled the entire room with all the shades of his speech sound. Severus dared not speak; to destroy the atmosphere that had so unexpectedly set in by his voice. It was... it was as if Remus was speaking directly into his soul!

_" Remember this, friends, no man who is good and just deserves to be cast out, for the poisonous curse in his blood. And none who truly repent to rot in a dungeon,"_ Remus continued with fervor as he paced up and down in front of the desk, _"True evil, wise men, is judgment alone."_

But Severus was no longer paying attention to his words, no longer paying attention to what Remus was saying. Something else was forcing its way into his mind. That voice, those feelings in his speech. It was as if Severus suddenly saw his friend in a completely different light. As if he were really seeing him for the first time. Why had he never noticed the warm, gentle glow in those brown eyes? How had he always been able to ignore the euphony in that calm, deep voice? And how, how had he missed the measured delicacy of his movements, although the wolf curse punished his body with roughness and sickliness, and the beauty of that quiet, almost introspective smile that Remus so often wore on his lips? Completely captivated by this spectacle, Severus looked at Remus. Just looked at him. Watched how the candlelight reflected in the gray strands and the cracked lips formed fully rounded words. And what had been thwarted that afternoon by the voice from childhood, it happened. Warmth gathered in his chest, condensed, and his heart throbbed, throbbed, that it seized his whole body, in a single, dizzying beat.

"The judgment that... that _destroys,"_ Remus spoke, letting his speech fade into a heavy sigh.


End file.
